Blackout
by BlueThorne
Summary: AU elements; Nero can't keep pretending this whole spotty memory thing isn't an issue when he wakes up covered in wounds and snow. Again. Even as more people get roped into his problem in an effort to help, things keep getting worse. The longer the blackouts last, the less of him there seems to be.
1. Introduction

**I wasn't supposed to start this 'til Heir Apparent was done, yet here we are. Is this fic also entirely about Nero having a bad time? No.**

 **It's about Dante having a bad time too.**

 **This was inspired by a post from sexy-androgynous-satan, who gave me permission to write this nonsense and was all-around cool, so that's rad.**

* * *

I may not have had shop hours posted, but getting calls anytime after 10 p.m. was unreasonable, even if I was awake. No one would expect an answer at that time, so I didn't bother. People who tried to call before noon were plain insane, unethical even. That still left a good enough window of time, I thought.

Besides, nothing good came from the phone trilling around midnight. I knew better. So under no circumstances did I answer-

"Devil May Cry."

Except for boredom. The days had been lacking, and I'd had enough to drink that I kicked the phone into my hand more out of instinct than thought. While I wasn't too fuzzy, the world tilted enough in my vision that I struggled to make sense of what was happening on the other end of the line.

"If you'd just try talking to him-" A young lady's voice, familiar enough and pissed enough that I tensed. Sure wasn't the first time a woman I couldn't quite recall yelled at me. Except, her voice was distant too, like a wall stood between us instead of a phone line.

"He's not going to know anything!" yelled a second person, more distant than the first.

That voice I did recognize - Nero, meaning the lady must have been… K-something. And if she was pissed, he was downright nuclear.

"He might," she said. "You won't know if you don't at least try."

I was clearly intruding on something, not that it was my fault. They must have called me by accident, but that did make me wonder if that meant they had me on speed dial. We'd never talked before. I didn't even know they had my number in the first place.

"It doesn't have anything to do with him," Nero snarled.

"But he's a devil hunter, right? Shouldn't this kind of be his area of expertise?"

Alright, maybe not an accident then. If they were arguing about me, listening in seemed fair.

Dropping my feet from the desk, I set my elbows down in their place and leaned the receiver away from my mouth as Nero barked, "Just what do you think is going on?" His voice had stretched so thin that I could hear how tense he was.

K must have thrown her hands up with the phone in them because her voice faded. "I don't know! I'm trying to find out! But if you don't think a doctor would help-"

"Fine! Fine. I'll go see a doctor. Just don't call Dante. I'll take care of it. I just need to…"

Whoops. I should have felt bad for eavesdropping. I didn't, but I should have. It was too late then because I was intrigued. My pen had found its way into my hand and hovered over the notepad in case anything came up - people or addresses. Anything I might need to look into later.

I wouldn't need to, of course.

But it couldn't hurt.

My preparation turned out to be in vain when K spoke again. "Wait, where are you going? You can't leave again. Nero!"

A door slammed, and the line went silent. I took it as my cue to leave, my hand drifting toward the cradle in hopes that no sound would alert her that I'd been on the line. When her voice came through clearly, I had to stop myself from throwing the phone, a jolt tearing through me.

"Um, Dante?"

My eyes clenched shut as I pulled the phone back. "I'm here."

"Oh, _sh-_ shoot. I didn't realize the call had gone through. I didn't wake you, did I?"

I couldn't tell if she was against cursing, or if she was trying to hold back for my sake. Either way, I had to bite my lip to hold back a laugh. "Nah, I'm a bit of a night owl. You're good."

"Did you hear anything?" she asked with a sigh. The conversation was steadily making its way up the "most uncomfortable experiences I'd ever had" list.

"A bit."

A thunk popped over the line followed by another sigh. "Sorry," she said, her voice muffled as though she'd hid her face against something.

"Oh, it's…" Fine? My fault? "Everything alright?" I regretted asking as soon as the words slipped out. This wasn't my business, or maybe it was, but I had a twisting in my gut that told me that I didn't want for it to be.

"Everything is-" She huffed. At least we were both struggling. "I don't know. I didn't mean to call. It was an accident. I'm sorry."

If I'd just let things end there, it would have been for the best. I could go back to drinking and try to ignore the nagging pull of curiosity in my head.

Yeah, right.

"How do you accidentally call someone?" I asked.

"Oh! I mean, I meant to call you, but then Nero, well, you know him." She was holding back.

"I'm guessing he wasn't thrilled with the idea," I said. Not much of a guess when I'd heard him yelling about it. Out of habit, I plastered a smile on my face to complete the charming act. "Are you and I not allowed to have a nice chat?"

"Oh, um, no we can chat, Dante."

She was so polite, so sincere that I had to put my face in my hand. I couldn't even remember her name. Giving in, I let the niceties fall from my voice and asked what I wanted to. "What's going on, kid?"

The line fell silent again until she drew in a slow breath. "Do you ever forget things?"

"Things like what? I forget my keys and my birthday, but who doesn't?" I was starting to realize we'd asked more questions than we'd given answers. "I guess I don't forget things any more than other people."

"Okay," she said to herself. "Nero's just been, um, a little off lately. I was worried. I wanted to make sure it didn't have something to do with his arm, you know?" After a bite of hesitation, panic slipped into her voice. "Sorry! I know not everything has to do with him being… I don't know the right word. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize all the time. Take it easy." Despite my words, questions filled my head like a clog. I had to dig through to grab hold of one at a time. "What's so off about him?"

Silence again. "That's really not for me to say," she murmured. "I shouldn't talk for him. That's not fair, but I'll try to get him to call you if he needs to, alright?"

Well, someone had to be the adult, and it sure wasn't going to be me. I doubted it was ever Nero either.

"Sure thing, kid," I said. "I'm usually here all day. Let me know if you ever need to hire another devil hunter. I'll even throw in a discount."

She was nice enough to laugh before we fumbled through goodbyes.

Whatever was going on was probably fine. Nero could handle himself, especially against some spotty memory. I assured myself that if I didn't hear anything from either of them in a week, it wasn't any sweat off my back. I couldn't contact them if I'd wanted to. The lack of caller ID on my old phone was a pain at times. Sure, Lady could dig up a phone number within minutes, but it wasn't like I needed to call them. That would have been weird. Everything was fine.

It was fine.

Until two nights later when I answered another call sometime past midnight. K's voice trembled like she'd been caught in a snowstorm. "Hello, hi, it's Kyrie. How have you been?" Though it sounded forced, she was so chipper that we must have been old friends. Right, her old friend who'd just gotten her name again.

"Fine?" I answered at length. "Are you-?"

"That's great!"

Something was wrong. Beyond how strange the situation felt, Kyrie was too polite to interrupt.

"Were you still planning on visiting soon?" she asked. If she had a corded phone, I felt sure she would have been twirling it around her finger to complete the act.

"Fortuna's a bit far, but I can get there in a couple days," I said. I wanted to ask her if she could get somewhere safe in the meantime, but she spoke too quickly, rattling off an address that I had to rush to jot down. Before I could get out the word "wait," she'd hung up.

It was no wonder Nero was always so stressed about that girl. She'd left me with nothing but questions, concerns, and a pain in the ass trip. The whole situation could have been a trap, or it could have been nothing at all. Whatever it was, it shouldn't have had me so damn rattled.

But if something was wrong with the kid, it was my problem. No one else could handle someone with dear old dad's blood. I'd learned that years ago.

After tearing off the top note with the address scrawled across it, I wrote a note that was sure to land me down the barrel of one of Lady's guns. Probably the rocket launcher.

"Going on vacation. Be back soon."

* * *

 **I'm all about that "No, I don't care about your problems. Anyway, what can I do to help?" Dante**


	2. Dusk

**I'm going to purposefully keep relationships pretty vague in this one, so feel free to imagine all or none of the pairings you want. Go wild. I don't care.**

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My first taste of consciousness was pain and a deafening ringing, louder than I'd ever heard it before. But that was always the case. It was louder each time I woke up to find myself somewhere different than when I'd closed my eyes last.

For once, my surroundings were familiar: beige walls, hardwood, and a TV stand with no TV. Our living room should have been better than waking up face-down in a carpet of snow like usual. I was still fucking drenched, though. The cold had never been an issue for me, but that didn't mean I wanted to go rolling around in the snow. Fortuna winters were a bitch.

I needed to check how long I'd been out of it. Last I remembered was some time around 11:00. Through white curtains, I could see a wall of black outside. Unless a full day had gone by, I guessed it hadn't been too long. I needed to get off the couch, needed to make sure Kyrie was alright, needed to start breathing again.

All of that was going to hurt like hell. I could feel it with every pulse of my heart, my whole body answering with twinges of pain. My shoulder still ached from a wound I'd gotten days ago, just like the break in my foot. They were healing, but slowly.

When I gave in enough to suck in air, fireworks seemed to tear through my right side. I wouldn't have been surprised if my ribs had shattered, and all the shards were sinking into my lungs. Glancing down, I found blood staining the left leg of my pants and my left sleeve, but my stinging side was clean. Internal damage only, then. I would have bet cash on an ugly bruise hiding under my shirt, not that I could check when I had a roll of bandages in one hand and a whole bag of bread in the other.

"Great," I grumbled. "Sleepwalking, sleep getting-injured, and now sleep eating too. I'm the holy trinity of fucked up."

"Nero?" Kyrie called, crushing my hopes that she was sleeping. Her voice was small, uncertain. Peering in from the hallway, she hung on the corner. "Are you back?"

"I guess."

I'd planned on doing some patrols overnight, but unconscious me was a useless combatant, apparently. Looked like I was down for the night unless my healing decided to kick in like it was supposed to.

"What time is it?" I asked as I dropped the bandages and bread onto the couch and attempted to roll to my feet. My left leg threatened to buck out from under me until I used the back of the couch as a crutch. At least the blood wasn't spreading. The wounds had sealed, so I didn't need bandages.

Stupid, unconscious me.

"It's a little past midnight," Kyrie said, striding into the room on her tiptoes like a skittish doe.

That meant I'd been out for over an hour. Damn. That was longer than usual. As long as I didn't hurt anyone but myself, as long as I was just fighting the demons outside town, it was fine. It had to be fine. Just like sleepwalking.

But my bullshit excuses weren't cutting it anymore, especially not with the spark of fear in Kyrie's eyes as she looked at me. If only I'd had a clue what the hell was going on. At least the ringing in my right ear finally faded to silence, the same empty silence as always. I would never have thought I'd miss it.

"That is our bread, right?" I asked with a nod to the bag on the couch. I didn't want to add stealing to the list of my new weird habits.

"It is. You don't remember getting it, do you?"

"No." Lying to Kyrie was pointless. She sniffed out secrets like a bloodhound.

"Are your wounds healing okay?" she asked. "You were limping pretty bad when you came in."

My spine shot rigid. "You saw me come in? How long ago was that?"

But I didn't hurt her. That was good. That had to have been good.

Surely.

Her eyes wandered the room, and her hands clasped tight in front of her as she spoke. "Like ten minutes ago. You were being really weird. I thought you were mad at me. You wouldn't talk to me."

"Sorry to scare you," I said like that would fix anything. Apologies and arguments were all we'd had the past week. "Maybe I should go."

Her hands snapped to her hips. "Go where? You can't keep running away from this."

"I don't want you to be around me when I'm like…" My hands flailed. "Whatever this is!"

"I'm fine!"

Damn, I'd started another one. "You won't be if something goes wrong while I'm like that."

"You think something like that would happen?"

"No! But I don't want to take any chances."

Just like when she got fed up as a kid, she huffed and stomped her foot. "Then do something about it, Nero!"

And just like back then, I crossed my arms and leaned away from her. "I've been trying. You have no idea how many books and papers I've sifted through, but 'unconsciously wandering off to fight demons' doesn't come up often."

Neither did "waking up with a book you've never seen sitting open in front of you" or "waking up in Agnus's creepy abandoned lab." My unconscious self was more loaded with bad decisions than my conscious self.

"But you weren't unconscious," Kyrie said. "It wasn't like you were sleepwalking. You saw me. You didn't say anything, but you were aware of everything around you."

Even as I shook my head, I tried to find some sense in her words. "But I don't remember any of that. I wasn't aware."

She breathed a sigh that relaxed her tense stance. "Maybe it's not you, but maybe there's… someone else."

"What? Like a split personality?" My laugh came out as a bitter wheeze. "That's insane, Kyrie. It's nothing like that."

"Well, I don't know," she said, tossing her hands up. "But you get that weird spirit thing behind you when you go all… whatever that is. Maybe it's got it's own mindset. It's not like you were willing to ask the one person who would know, so I got all freaked out-"

"Wait, are you talking about my Trigger? It's not like its own being. And I'm not calling Dante about this. It's weird enough that you kept his number."

She hesitated for some reason, shifting her weight between her feet. "He might be able to help."

"He's an ass, and he'd just lord this over me somehow."

Or he'd try to kill me. I still wasn't sure which, but I wasn't going to chance it.

"Did you at least see a doctor?" she asked, too worn out to sound stern.

"Yeah, it's out of their hands." Like any doctor in the city would be willing to see me. When someone was eager to examine me, I took that as a sign to stay away. I didn't want to be around another Agnus. Besides, I hadn't gotten a serious illness in years. Kyrie got appendicitis once, and Credo had broken a bone every now and then, but I'd been hearty enough to avoid anything but the awkward physical exams the Order required.

That was fine with me. I hated hospitals. Hated the sickly clean smell, the buzzing fluorescent lights, and the drug-induced haze they kept patients in. The further I stayed from there, the better. I didn't need them to put me in some psych ward.

After some grumbling, Kyrie let me go when I said how desperately I needed a shower and a change of clothes. It was too late at night for either of us to keep fighting.

The white lights of the bathroom cast me in an ugly pallor that brought out every bruise and mending scab. Blues, purples, yellows, and reds - I looked like a fucked up watercolor. My only guess was that constantly getting injured had stunted my healing, stretching it thin between so many wounds. I could tell that it still worked, though, partially because the pain wasn't as bad as it should have been, and partially because I wasn't dead yet.

If that other me - and it was part of me, of course - would have stopped getting my ass kicked and hanging around in the snow banks, it wouldn't have been an issue. Well, no, the whole unconscious thing still would have been an issue. Just not as much of one. I was already having to deal with an irritating swell of demon activity, so having another problem on top of that was just my luck.

Worst of all, my clothes were all getting shredded. After my shower, I tossed yet another shirt, jacket, and pair of pants into the salvage pile. Kyrie and I had been putting all our home skills to the test, mixing concoctions to wash out blood and hauling out the old sewing machine. If this kept up, all my clothes would be patchwork soon enough. My old uniform still hung untouched in the back of my closet, but there was no way in hell I was wearing that.

Flopping face-first into my pillows, I wrestled with my thoughts in an effort to get to sleep. Lying there let my mind wander too much, until I was trying to think of a way that I could be restained if the other me started going after something other than demons.

Chains weren't enough to hold me. Not cell bars or concrete. The abandoned lab may have had something that could work, but trapping myself there alone would get me nothing but dead. Then again, maybe that was the answer.

If I became a danger to Fortuna, the only way any of them could stop me was by killing me.

And that was… fair. Logical. Just. Reasonable. Something.

Not right, but something.

I would trade my life for their safety, or Kyrie's at least.

But I'd be damned if I'd give up so easily. I was thinking in hypotheticals anyway. Through some miracle, the jumble in my head faded into background noise, and I was able to find sleep. The fierce aches from my wounds woke me sooner than I would have wanted, so I forced down some coffee while Kyrie skimmed the morning paper.

"Breakfast," she said without looking up.

"I'll grab something on the way out." Making food sounded like work, and while Kyrie had enough to share, she'd gotten herself a batch of the sweetest doughnuts in town, her favorites. The last thing I needed was a sugar rush along with caffeine.

"Where are you going today?" she asked around a mouthful of sugary pastry.

"Probably the Order's library again. There are still some files I haven't checked."

One brow raised, she glanced up from the paper. "How do you even get in there? It's wrecked."

"It's in pieces, but some of the rooms are still standing. Takes some climbing, but it's not too hard to get in." It was, however, much more difficult since my shoulder had gotten trashed. Still easier than getting to Fortuna Castle's library or the lab.

"Okay," she said, going back to some story about a high school fundraiser. "But you be careful."

Silence blanketed the room as I finished my coffee and she ate her way through three more doughnuts. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or concerned, but before I could decide, her voice cut through my thoughts.

"Black," she said. "That's what I'll call him."

"Who?"

"The mean you. Saying all that stuff about you being unconscious takes too long. From now on, when you're weird, I'm calling that you Black."

Though her expression remained even, I smacked a hand to my face to hide a wince. "Don't give it a name, Kyrie." That made it sound too much like a pet. "And really? Black?"

I knew that there would be no winning when she nodded. "He's like you but not, so we'll call him a name like yours but not. And maybe if I give him a name and am nice to him, he won't glare at me."

She'd spent way too much time thinking this over. I didn't need her getting attached to me losing my mind, but arguing with Kyrie over anything was pointless. She was still at the table after I'd brushed my teeth and was heading for the door. "Not taking your sword?" she asked.

"I don't like… Black having access to my weapons, especially if he knows how to get back home." The name and pronouns felt odd on my tongue. "Maybe it'll dissuade him from getting into stupid fights." The Bringer was enough of a weapon for either of us, though my arm felt hollow without Yamato.

Referring to Black like we were friends sharing tools instead of my fucking body made me want to shoot myself just so I could give it some of the trouble it gave me for once. I didn't care how irrational that was. Nothing about the situation was rational.

Kyrie wished me good luck as I stormed out into the blinding morning sun. In truth, the Order's library, or what was left of it, didn't have anything left of interest. The dusty books were old records, reports, and manuals. Anything interesting that may have been hidden in the offices was buried under rubble. The most useful things I'd found were books on swordplay. Not helpful for my situation, but still interesting.

To get to the library, I had to scale a wall with the claws on my right hand and crawl my way under what I recalled being three doorways. The overhead weight crashing down had turned the whole place into a warped obstacle course. With every gale, the remaining structures groaned and crackled. Dusty bits of stone fell from overhead. The whole place was a deathtrap, but one I kept coming back to because of Black.

The first time my memory had gone blank to a noticeable degree was in the library, and it was the first place I'd woken up with no knowledge of how I'd gotten there.

Two of the tables were still intact, along with the chairs. After grabbing one of the old records, I flipped to a blank page in the back and dropped into my usual spot. A jar of pens lay scattered across the table, so I gave into the stupidest idea I'd ever had and took one. I was glad the place was destroyed so no one else could be there for my experiment.

It was Kyrie's fault, really, acting like Black was its own person or something. Stupid, impossible nonsense. But I was desperate enough to give it a shot. I wrote two simple questions on the paper in front of me - "Who are you?" and "What do you want?"

If Black didn't know how to keep me from injury against a demon, I doubted he had enough awareness to read or write. I had to keep reminding myself that the whole thing was a test and worth as much of a shot as anything else. Otherwise, I would have shredded that paper. The idea grew more and more tempting over the next few hours. Or several hours.

I didn't have a watch. Considering recent events, I needed to invest in one.

As far as I could tell, Black didn't have a trigger. He came out when he wanted to, so I wasted time by pacing and folding paper airplanes. The thought that I'd missed lunch occurred to me, making me realize I had never grabbed breakfast either. I wasn't hungry, so it didn't matter. I decided that when I went back home, I would eat. By then, I hoped food would sound appealing. My lack of appetite must have stemmed from the growing headache throbbing behind my eyes.

When the rays of light filtering in through the cracked ceiling tinged orange, I realized I'd wasted a whole day. The thought put me on edge, my Bringer itching as I thought of all the demons that would be rearing their ugly heads at nightfall. Daylight didn't stop them, but it thinned their numbers. Once night hit, all bets were off. I needed to get back to Fortuna for a patrol, and I had to get my weapons. Without them, I felt a static buzz of anxiety, and my bringer ached without Yamato.

Giving Black access to Yamato was almost the last thing I wanted, but I wanted to be without it even less. As much as I hated to use the devil arm as a crutch, I needed it to Trigger.

I sounded like a fucking addict.

After the Savior Incident, I'd kept Yamato in my arm unless I needed it. This was the first day I'd left it for any amount of time. As I set a brisk pace for home, I wondered if I should have been more hesitant to take the thing back. Then again, I reasoned, it wasn't like I could just quit cold turkey. Withdrawal sucked, my pulse rattling my head in a growing cacophony. The headache could have come from the lack of food, but my mind was set on getting my weapons back. When I reached the house, I darted to Yamato first.

I remembered grabbing it, my claws curling around the grip.

Then I was on the ground, an endless black sky and treetops hanging over me. The air smelled of blood, and the ringing- Fucking hell, the ringing was deafening. I couldn't tell if I was trembling from fear, pain, or the snow around me because the cold registered as an afterthought. The idea of moving was so unappealing that I considered falling asleep there. All that stopped me was the nauseating smell of blood. I had to make sure that all of it was mine.

Forcing myself to sit up, I found another set of cuts and ruined clothes. The blood looked to be mine, I guessed, the worst of it stemming from my forehead and coating my right eye to blindness. Even as I smeared the blood away, a fresh clot filled my eye socket like a puddle. And no matter how much scrubbed, I couldn't see out of that eye.

Nothing. Not my surroundings or my hand in front of my face.

"Black," I snarled, happy for the first time to have a name to blame. "You pain in my ass, if this doesn't heal-!"

Right, like there was a sane way to threaten a part of my head. Trying to stagger to my feet almost dropped me to my knees again. The pain was exhausting, wearing me too thin to even attempt to use my Trigger to heal.

Then again, I wasn't sure I wanted to do anything that involved Yamato. Black hadn't taken over until I'd gotten the sword back. The more I thought about it as I dragged myself home, the more I became convinced that I needed Yamato away for a while. Even if it wasn't the cause, Black seemed too eager to have it.

Damn, and now I was imagining him with emotions.

If he did feel, he must have been some kind of sadist because trying to summon Yamato turned into a trial that left my arm stinging like hundreds of needles had jammed beneath my skin. Fed up with the sword, I shoved it in the chest at the foot of my bed and clicked the lock I'd never used into place.

I had no idea where the key was, lost somewhere in the depths of my dresser or under my bed, but that was fine. If I didn't know, then he couldn't either.

Collapsing to my back on the carpet, I closed my eyes and focused on the slow, burning ache that signaled my wounds mending. Even without Yamato, I could heal fine. I didn't need the sword.

"Nero?" Kyrie called.

I cracked my working eye open just in time for her to flick on the lights. With a hiss, I shot my hand up to shield myself from the sudden flood of brightness.

"You look awful!" Kyrie cried. "Are you okay? Can you move?"

"I'm doing great," I said with an attempt at a smile. "I think, maybe, I'll give that old bastard a call tomorrow. Just to say hi and see if he'll come visit for an ass-kicking."

She said nothing, so I let my hand fall away to see her expression pinched with unrestrained worry. She must not have been sleeping well, the swaths under her eyes like bruises against too-pale skin.

"Was hoping you'd be asleep when I got here," I admitted, the first real truth I could offer. "But I guess it's for the best that you're not. Is there anyone you can go stay with for a while?"

I couldn't hold her gaze as tears welled up in her eyes. "I can't leave you like this," she said.

"I know it looks bad, but I'm healing. I'll feel much better if you're somewhere else right now." Though unsuccessful in hiding a wince, I sat up so I could put my hand on her shoulder. "I would never hurt you, but I think it's best that I avoid people right now."

"If you get weird, I can just stab you." She put on her best pout to try winning me over, but that trick hadn't worked in years.

"Again? You're getting awfully stab-happy. Maybe training you is another health hazard for me."

"That time was an accident!" she squeaked. As I laughed, she smacked my forehead with all the force of a cat batting at a toy. "You were supposed to move so you wouldn't get stabbed! Stop laughing!"

"Alright-alright." My smile fell away. "But only if you find somewhere to stay. Just for a while. Call it a favor."

"You owe me so many," she said with a sigh. "You'd better not forget."

"I won't."

For a few breaths, she fiddled with the hands clasped in her lap, her gaze down. "I'll go, but if you need me-"

"Don't tell me where you're going."

Her head jerked up, eyes wide.

"Please. Don't tell me. I'll find a way to get ahold of you if I have to." If I didn't know, neither did he. Maybe it didn't matter, but I wouldn't take any more chances.

"Okay," she said more as a whisper than a word. Bastard that I was, I couldn't help but flinch back when she reached out to hug me. That earned me a huff and a hug so tight that I learned just how many broken ribs I was sporting. "You don't get to be that reclusive," she grumbled. "I still get to come back and check on you sometimes. No buts."

"Alright, fine. Please let me breathe."

She stuck her tongue out at me when she pulled back and hopped to her feet. By the time she'd packed a suitcase, I'd dragged myself up on my bed, and she was still sticking her tongue out at me each time she walked by my room.

"You behave," she said as she passed by for the last time, her suitcase rolling behind her. "Make sure Black behaves too. And eat! You have to eat!"

Right, food. I wasn't sure how I kept forgetting about it. "I will," I said. "First I'm going to shower and sleep for the next decade."

"Eat!" she yelled, her voice echoing down the hall as she headed for the door. "I'm coming by tomorrow, and you better be here resting."

Any other time, I would have argued, but I needed her off my case. Besides, the idea of rest sounded too good to pass up. The other knights could handle the demons for another day. Maybe a good night's sleep would be enough to fix my eye.

As I waited for the shower to heat up, I stared myself down in the bathroom mirror, looking for any sign that my eye had been damaged. Other than some flakes of blood in the corners, I could find no difference from my other eye. When I closed my left, I was totally blind. If any demons were smart enough to figure that out, I was in for a hell of a time. My right side had already been troublesome enough with a lack of sound. A lack of sight alongside it meant that my bringer would be getting a workout. At least I still had something of use on my right.

After a shower that burned against my still-frosty skin, I forced down a slice of bread. Even when I smothered it in jam, I could taste nothing. Bites turned to doughy, flavorless rocks in my mouth, reminding me why food had grown so unappealing. Eating seemed to reawaken the gnawing in my Bringer too. The arm itched like I had a fire in my veins, calling for that damn sword again. While brushing my teeth, I shoved the arm under the faucet and let the water run down the scales and ridges and drip from my claws.

It did nothing to quell the irritation.

Neither that sword nor my arm owned me, but that didn't stop me from feeling like a complete moron when I plopped myself down on the couch just to sleep as far from Yamato as possible. "In my own house," I growled shoving a pillow over my ear to block out an obnoxious trill. "Sleeping on the couch in my own fucking house."

Well, Kyrie's house more than mine. I'd always just taken up space in it, but I had my own room.

The trill got louder, less like the phantom ringing from my busted ear and more like a scream or some twisted version of a song. I'd read that some devil arms could talk, but Yamato never made a sound, not until that night. Louder and louder, it kept on, the searing in my arm answering its call no matter how I tried to block it out.

I could have left, tried to get more space, but I would not be run out of my house by a fucking sword.

"Shut up!" I yelled so loud that my head ached. Any pretense of sanity was gone. I was arguing with a sword. "I've had a shitty enough day! Just let me sleep! I will deal with your issues in the morning!"

As much as I wanted for my desperate bargaining to work, I hadn't expected it to. Yet the singing stopped, and my arm became deadened as though stuffed. A laugh bubbled up from my throat, either from the exhaustion or relief. Or maybe I'd finally lost it because I kept laughing, tears pouring from my eye.

Only my left eye would cry.

My laughs turned to sobs.

* * *

 **Is it an unnecessary amount of trouble to give Nero? Absolutely.**

 **Do I care? No.**

 **Also, if you're like "Is this what I think it is?" then, yes. It's exactly what you think it is.**


	3. Eventide

**Shows up and updates the fic no one cares about and not the one that's on a rather literal cliffhanger. Too bad.**

 **The working title for this chapter was "Dante Sucks at His Job."**

* * *

Ignoring all the remnants of destruction, Fortuna was nice. Too nice. Like a shot from a travel magazine. Even with the icy sting of winter in the air, sunlight beamed down on the cobblestone streets and fancy, old architecture. In comparison, my town looked like a hellhole, but then again, it was.

In the literal sense, so was Fortuna with that massive Hellgate looming under its surface. The city's aesthetic made a for a nice, disarming coat of paint, one that I'd had plenty of time to ruminate over because I'd been lost for hours.

Having an address didn't do me much good without directions, and too many of the streets looked the same. Either that, or I was going in circles.

Keeping at street level should have been the better option. There, I could ask people directions or at least keep an eye on street signs, but a couple problems came with that plan.

One, the people of Fortuna had good memories. After the third person's eyes widened at my approach, and they skittered away as fast as possible, I recalled that I hadn't made the best first impression. Even if he was a demon, shooting a church authority in the face in front of more-or-less the entire town wasn't going to endear me to anyone.

Two, all the damn streets had Italian names. Well, everything in Fortuna had an Italian name. Or was it Latin? Either way, it was Greek to me. Trying to keep track of which street signs I'd seen was more of a challenge when all the labels started with Via and ended with some fancy word I didn't recognize. They blurred together more and more with each street until I gave up and took to the rooftops.

I did find the residential district that way, but that was worse somehow. All the houses looked the same, sitting in neat little rows with the same windows, same paint job, and same front doors. Nothing screamed "definitely not a cult" like everyone wearing identical clothes and living in identical houses.

Compared to all the effort I went through to just find their damn address, fixing whatever issue Nero and Kyrie had was going to be a breeze. At least, I hoped so. Despite the day and a-half trip between my bike, a dingy plane, and a boat, I was fine with heading all the way out to take care of something small if that meant it wasn't something big.

I hadn't asked for payment, not that I'd had time, but I figured the kids could at least get me something to eat in return for the trouble. My gut was nice enough to remind me of what a hollow pit it was every few minutes. Even if I'd spared the time to grab something during my slog of a search for their house, I wasn't sure any of the restaurants would have served me.

Through some miracle, I found the place, the last house on the north end of its street. It could have been the far corner of the world for what a pain in the ass it was to find. The setting sun reflected off the dusting of frost, painting the whole street a blinding orange and making me wonder how an island's climate even dropped below freezing as I knocked on the door.

The only answer I received was a muffled but solid thunk. I knew that sound well enough to guess that something had collided with a wall or floor, and the resulting hiss of what was likely curses seemed to prove me right. I could tell it was Nero. No one else could have sounded so incensed at the prospect of answering a door.

So I had one kid well and accounted for. I just had to find the other, fix up some problems, get some food, and I could be back home for Lady to yell or shoot at. Maybe both.

The smile I plastered on my face faltered for an instant when the door opened. The kid didn't look like the same one I'd met a few months before. Hell must have run him over, eyes sunken with exhaustion and skin so pale I worried it might crack like porcelain. A blanket hung off one shoulder and dragged around his feet like some forgotten cape.

He blinked at me a few times as though making sure I was real; then with a growl, he slammed the heel of his clawed hand against his ear. One eye screwed shut against whatever was bothering him.

"You alright, kid?" I had to ask.

He winced, maybe against my voice. "Yeah, fine. My ear's just bugging me."

"What's wrong with it?"

"That's the problem. There's supposed to be something wrong with it, but it's been…" His hand drifted back down. He seemed to finally recognize me. "Wait, why are you here?"

If he didn't know, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to tell him. The unease I'd felt on the phone with Kyrie came rushing back like a freight train. It didn't help that he was talking in riddles.

"I was just in the area," I said. "Figured I'd come visit my favorite whatever-you-are. You could at least pretend to be happy to see me."

"Thanks." Sarcasm dripped from his mouth like sludge. "Do you want to come in, _sir_? Would you like some coffee?"

"Are you this sweet to all your house guests, or am I a special case?"

"I'm going to shut the door."

As I slipped in past him, he ground out a sigh of "Make yourself at home." Though he was in quite a mood, if he had the mindset to make such snide remarks, the problem couldn't have been anything too pressing.

The house looked... boring, so pristine and tidy that I felt like I couldn't touch anything. "So what was that about your ear?" I asked as I glanced over the shelves of photos and knick-knacks.

He pressed his shoulder to the door to shut it. "Is that a no on coffee?"

Looked like we were going to have a battle over changing the subject. Little did he know that I was an ace at the game.

"I don't need the extra energy," I said. "Did you say it was supposed to be messed up?"

His eyes darted to their corners. I could see the debate playing in his head before he spoke with hesitation. "I'm deaf in my right ear. Have been since I was a kid. It's really not a big deal." Tension built in his shoulders with each word, as though bracing for me to make fun of him. I hoped I didn't come off as that much of an ass.

"So it's bothering you?" I asked.

"Not really. It's been ringing, but it's whatever." He shrugged. "So, do you want, like, food or something?"

I flashed him a smile more genuine than the rest. "Like food or something sounds great."

The corner of his mouth tugged toward a faint smirk as he pushed himself from the door and headed for the kitchen. Trailing after him, I found the room as quaint and tidy as the living room. He shooed me over to a kitchen table big enough to seat six and set to digging around in the fridge.

"Is it just you here?" I asked. After resting my sword against the wall, I dropped down in one chair and kicked my feet up in another.

"Not usually, but Kyrie's staying with a friend." He scanned the expiration date on a half-gallon jug. I hoped him pouring a glass meant that it was alright because he strode over and smacked the glass down in front of me on the table.

"Milk?" I asked, one brow raised.

"Yeah, you can drink it, right? If you don't want coffee, it's that or orange juice. You're not having booze with breakfast."

I saw nothing wrong with booze for breakfast, but I did take issue with the breakfast part in general. "What time do you think it is, kid?"

While looking out the window, he cracked an egg one-handed into a pan. "Looks like ass o'clock in the morning to me," he said. "Do you always decide to visit people at sunrise?"

"Please, I don't get up before sunrise. It's sunset."

The tired glaze over his eyes didn't change, but he took a slow, steadying breath. "Guess I overslept a bit. I was up late. Well, you're getting breakfast now, so suck it up."

I held up my hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm up for anything edible if it's free."

Though I couldn't find anything wrong, exactly, he was far too off for everything to be right. His movements were so sluggish that I wondered if he could have kept up with me in a fight like he had before. Asking him anything directly felt a bit too ballsy even for me. I hoped he was telling the truth about the girl visiting a friend because I couldn't think of a way to pry at that without sounding like a creep.

I must have looked creepy enough when I realized I was staring him down like I could pick him apart to find the problem. My graceful attempt to snap out of it and look inconspicuous sent my forearm into the milk glass. Shooting out my hand, I was able to right it before it toppled over.

The kid didn't even look up. I couldn't imagine him skipping out on a reason to make fun of me, so he must have been so spaced out that he was off on another planet. Entranced by chopping an onion, he didn't notice when I waved at him, not even when I stuck my arm all the way up.

"Demons still keeping you busy?" I asked as I dropped my arm. I hoped he wasn't going out and fighting when his mindfulness of his surroundings was that poor. He heard me at least, though I did take more stock in the way his head tilted to listen.

"Very busy," he said. "Did someone hire you about the demon problem? I told them we'd take care of it."

"Demon problem?" News to me. Demons were always going to be around, but with the gates destroyed, they shouldn't have been as much of an issue as before. "You got something you can't handle on your own?"

"I don't need help," he said, tossing a glare my way. "Killing the bastards isn't the problem. It's finding them. They're all over the place. We've had a weird resurgence lately. Had to scrape together what was left of the Holy Knights for patrols to make sure nothing gets into the city."

I had a feeling Kyrie wouldn't have called me if that were the only issue. He was leaving something out, and I was going to have to prod to get it. "So the other guys are out there working, and you're napping the day away."

I met his snarl with a grin. Maybe not the best idea to taunt the kid when he had a knife, especially when he slammed it into the cutting board, through the flesh of the tomato as well as his own. He didn't even flinch, just muttered a curse before sticking the side of his finger in his mouth.

"I'm not sure you're following all the food safety regulations here," I said.

"Bite me," he said around his hand.

"I think you've got that covered for yourself."

The wound must not have been that bad because his finger was still attached, but he dug an adhesive bandage out of a drawer and wrapped it around the cut. That made my brows pinch.

"Don't worry, I won't bleed on your food," he grumbled as he slammed the drawer shut.

"How long do you expect it to bleed? Isn't your healing pretty on par with mine?"

Without realizing it, I must have backed him into a corner because he froze, tense as a coiled spring. "It's fine," he said far too late to cover for himself.

Breathing a sigh through my nose, I dropped my feet from the chair and faced him properly. "You don't have to lie to me, kid. Something's up with you."

Despite the bandage, blood welled up between his fingers and dripped to the floor as he held a white-knuckled fist at his side. "This doesn't… It's not your problem."

Maybe it shouldn't have been, but it turned into my problem the moment I got that call. "Where's Kyrie?" I asked just in case. Just to make sure. I couldn't imagine him hurting her, but I had to check.

The topic must have hit a nerve because his eyes flashed with unchecked rage. "I told you she's at her friend's place. Why are you asking?"

"Because she asked me to come."

I was prepared for him to lunge at me, but the tension dropped from his shoulders. His lips thinned with shame. "Oh," he said, quiet and defeated. "I guess it's good, then. If you're here, then there's someone who can…" With a sigh, he flicked off the stove. Though I waited for him to continue, he said nothing else.

"You're going to have to tell me what's going on because I didn't get much information from her," I said.

Turning to lean back against the counter, his worn eyes traced the lines on the tile floor. "I would, but I don't know what's going on either."

"Quit with the vagaries, kid. I can help, but you have to give me something to go on."

"As long as your idea of helping isn't lopping my head off right away."

I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed that he thought I would kill him or surprised he would admit that I could manage it. "Why do you think that would be my solution?" I asked.

"Been...forgetting things." That sounded familiar. As he spoke, his eyes clenched shut, and he pressed his bloodied fingers into his temples. "Like I was losing time. I'd be somewhere one moment and then… Then…" He drew a sharp breath. His hand slipped from his face and drifted back down to his side.

"You alright?" I asked again.

When he turned to me, his eyes were filled with dark, icy irritation that didn't look right on him. Nero was all fire when he was mad, snapping and snarling like a dog rearing for a fight. This anger was too controlled for him.

The static crackle of breaking wood sounded from another room. Before I could even glance in the direction of the noise, Nero's clawed hand shot up and snatched Yamato from the air.

It wasn't hard to figure out that I needed to move, grabbing Rebellion as I threw myself out of the chair just in time for it to be cleaved in two. The instant my sword came up, Yamato came down against it. The force of the strike made the house rattle down to its foundation.

"Kid, you really want to fight here?" I asked. "In your condition?"

His weakness was easier to see when he fought. He had to throw himself into every attack just to get force behind them, so his swings were sloppy and easy to block. "Hey, kid," I said as he kept at it. "You're going to mess up your house."

In response, he attempted a slice across my throat.

Disapproval slipped into my tone. "Kid."

Another slash.

"Nero, what are you doing?"

He didn't even open his mouth, just kept glaring at me with murder in his eyes.

If not for the tight space, I could have dodged without issue. All that kept his guard closed was his left arm held across his chest like it should have been in a cast. Trying to reason with him was getting me nowhere, so I gave up on playing defense. His next strike unbalanced him just as much as the rest, easy to tip over when I shoved with Rebellion and threw his weight back at him.

In any other case, I would have used that as an opportunity to strike, but if the kid couldn't heal from a knick on the finger, he wasn't coming back from anything Rebellion could dish out. Ebony and Ivory were out of the question too.

Going with the next best option, I reared back and slammed my boot into his shoulder. Startled, his eyes shot wide. He scrambled to catch himself as the hit spun him, but even when he managed to stop his fall with his palms smacked to the floor, my knee and all of my weight behind it dropped him.

Despite his best attempts to flail and paw at me, the angle kept him from being able to do any real damage. Truthfully, the claws scared me more than the sword. Even weakened, I felt sure that arm of his would shred any piece of me it could get ahold of. Yamato was easier to predict. I'd seen the worst of its uses, and Nero didn't seem to have much of grasp on those. He hadn't even summoned his strange Devil Trigger to use it against me.

"How about you hang out and cool off a bit?" I said as his eye worked to burn a hole through me. "You're a mess. You can't fight me right now. If you behave, we can take this outside later."

I still couldn't make sense of what had set him off. He wasn't being like his usual self in a brawl, all snark and show. I'd seen enough demons use mind control to rule that out. Brainwashing was visible in the eyes. They'd drain of emotion, leaving them glazed, empty. He was showing too much fury to be a puppet, yet when he spoke, his words came out so sharp and thin that I couldn't match them to anything I'd ever heard from the kid.

"Do not interfere."

With my gaze down on him, I had a great view of the damn phantom blade that rammed through my heart and out my sternum. Pain blinded me long enough for him to drag himself free. "That was cheap," I said around the blood filling my mouth. With every jolt of my heart and each breath forced into my lungs, the wound tore at itself, rending even as muscle and bone stitched back together.

Getting Yamato away from him claimed top priority then. After scanning for any more of the summon swords that might be buzzing around like the world's most annoying insect, I readied Rebellion in preparation for Nero to jump up and turn on me again.

He did roll to his feet, but the moment he hopped up, he darted for the door. "What?" was all I could find to say in my shock. "No! You don't get to run now. Get back here."

My lunge came up empty, and he slipped out, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.

"This is no way to treat a guest," I said as I shouldered open the door to rush after him. The street lay empty. He couldn't have outrun me, not with how weak and haggard he'd been, yet I didn't see a sign of him when I clambered up to the roof either. Other than the distant rush of cars, I heard nothing.

After skimming the nearby roads and finding nothing but some scowling residents, I had no option but to return to the house. At least when I'd been the one he was chasing all over the island, I'd left an obvious trail for him to follow, even if it had been fake and solely for my own entertainment.

He might as well have vanished into thin air for all the clues he left me, and that was a perfectly reasonable excuse to poke around in his house. "He did say to make myself feel at home," I said under my breath as I peered behind each door.

In what must have been his room, judging by the oversized falchion against the wall, I found a pile of clothes so bloodied and tattered that they looked like used bandages at first glance. A broken chest sat at the foot of his bed, jagged splinters of the wood pointing outward from the gash in its side. It looked like something had clawed its way out.

"Yamato?" I muttered, my eyes rolled up in recollection of the shattering sound I'd heard before it appeared in Nero's grasp. Thinking back, he hadn't summoned it from his arm like before. I couldn't make sense of that. If I could have just popped an extra weapon into existence at any time from such a convenient carrying location, I sure as hell would have kept it with me.

Even odder, a quick tug at the lid of the chest proved it to be locked. "Alright, kid, what's up? You're going to have to spell it out for me. Give me, like, a diary or something."

If he'd had a diary, it would have been in either that chest, or his drawers, and even I had my limits of snooping. I didn't need the kid coming back madder.

When the front door opened, I spun on my heel and hopped back into the hall, hoping he wouldn't notice that I'd been in his room. Luckily or unluckily, I found Kyrie staring at me instead. Terror made her eyes wide as she took in the slashes that had strayed into the walls and floor. "Dante," she said slow and dazed.

"Kyrie!" I greeted. "Sorry about the walls... and the floor... and the chair." Though I tried to smile, stress bled in my eyes in echo to her own. "Nero and I got into a bit of a spat, but he's fine."

"Did he run off again?" She spoke like something had caught in her throat, her voice airy.

"Yeah, I guess I'm good at pissing him off."

She clasped her hands in front of her, kneading her palms and fingers. "I'm so sorry. I was hoping he'd listen to you. He said last night that he was going to call you, so I'd hoped he'd calmed down."

Giving up on the act, I crossed my arms and let myself sigh. "Why didn't you tell him that I was coming?"

Biting the corner of her lip, she gnawed at it for such a stretch that I was surprised when she actually answered. "I was worried about how Black might react."

"Black?"

"I guess he didn't tell you." Her huff blew her bangs away from her face.

"He didn't tell me anything. Started to, and then he just flew off the handle."

With a relatable cry of "ugh," she stomped her foot before launching into a rant complete with gestures so broad and quick that I was worried she might fall over. Her dedication to performing all the different parts through changing her expression and voice was admirable.

"So first, people just came up to me like, 'Kyrie, that boy is acting weird again.'

"And I was like, 'Yeah, okay, tell me something new.'

"And they were like, 'He's staring off into space all the time. Spaced out in the middle of the street today.'

"And I'm like, 'Look, he's kind of dumb. I'm sure it's fine.'"

I'd taken her for the demure, quiet sort, but it seemed that only extended so far.

"And they'd say, 'Okay, but he keeps taking his creepy arm out-'"

"He still hides his arm?" I cut in.

Though her brow was pinched, she shrugged. "Only in the city. He doesn't like when people stare. I didn't think that was all that notable, but then they came up to me like, 'Kyrie, he's getting really weird.'

"And I'm like, 'What am I? His keeper?' Except I pretty much am, and they're all too scared to talk to him, so whatever."

I couldn't help but crack a smile.

"And they're like, 'No, really, it's weird. He keeps falling down for no reason and then glares at anyone who asks if he's okay. Then he just blinks and stands up and looks all confused.'

"So I've got to be like, 'Nero, what's your deal?' And this boy has the nerve to look me in the eye and say it's fine. I don't know if you know this about him, but he's a terrible liar."

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I've noticed."

"Right? So I already knew he was lying. He doesn't like to make people worry, but I could tell he was getting stressed about it. He fidgets real bad when he's bored or anxious, and things kept getting worse. He started coming home with his clothes ruined like he'd been injured, but his strange healing would have already put him back together. He kept saying it was fine, and I knew he was lying. I knew it! But you can't reason with him." Her hands trembled in fists at her sides, and her voice rose in pitch with each word. "He wasn't eating, and he was exhausted all the time, and then he'd come home with the wounds still there! They'd take so long to heal!"

A deep, shaking inhale cut her off, and she eased the tension from her shoulders as she puffed out the air. "That first time I called you," she continued in a murmur, "he came home with such a deep cut in his shoulder that it must have gone down to the bone. It looked horrible. I finally got him to tell me about what was happening. He said he'd just lose chunks of time, like he'd open his eyes and be somewhere new, and all the time in between would have been ripped away."

They'd both said that before - memory loss. I wracked my brain for anything that could explain what was happening to the kid, but nothing lined up. The odd progression of his worsening symptoms was outside of any case I'd seen.

"And the next time you called me?" I pressed.

She looked at the couch or perhaps the past, her eyes thinned with pain. "He came home, but it wasn't him. He'd gotten scuffed up like always, and I went up to him, but he wouldn't say anything. Looked at me like I was some stranger and pushed me out of the way - with his right arm. Nero doesn't do that, okay? He's always worried he'll hurt someone if he uses force with his right arm, and it's not like he'd ever push me anyway."

While he'd never extended such a courtesy to me, I could see him acting that way with her. She looked like the sort who would break from as much as a light shove. Not to mention the time I had accidentally knocked her down and earned the kid's boots to my face for it.

"It wasn't him," she said, her voice trembling. "It was like someone wearing his skin, and I realized that must have been whatever was making him forget things. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do, so I called you, but I didn't want for it to know in case I made it angrier."

"I must have had a run-in with that thing too," I said. "That explains the sudden change in attitude the kid had."

My devil hunter license was bound to get revoked for letting such a stupid mistake slip past me unaware. But whatever the thing was, even if it acted nothing like the kid, it still wielded his power and energy. As far as my senses were concerned, I'd been fighting Nero, no new or outside force.

So possession was out just like brainwashing. That didn't leave me with many options, but the fact that Nero didn't seem to be a willing participant in whatever was going on brought me some relief. I would find out whatever had latched onto him and shake it off. It had to be something I could fix. I couldn't fight someone like that. Not again.

"I call it Black," she said, wrenching me from my thoughts.

"You mean, when he's out of it? You gave it a name?" I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Amusement tugged me toward a smile, but the nature of the thing fought for a frown.

"I guess I wanted to see if I could get it to talk to me," she said. "That maybe if I treated it like its own person, it might tell me what it wanted."

"So it never spoke to you?"

She shook her head, but I knew that it could speak. It had proven that much to me.

"Does he usually have Yamato with him when it takes over?" I asked.

Her brow puzzled as her eyes rolled up in thought. "That's the sword he keeps in his arm, right? I think he always has it there, so I guess so." Her gaze snapped to me with a realization. "Oh, but he left all his weapons here yesterday. He said he didn't want Black to have access to them."

I was inclined to agree, especially when it came to Yamato. Always something going on with that damn sword.

I hoped she couldn't read the way thoughts spun circles in my head because she broke through with a tentative, "So can you do an exorcism or something?"

She might as well have pointed a shotgun at me for how loaded that question was. I had to hide a cringe. "Possible," I lied through my teeth with a forced smile. "Exorcisms are complicated and way above my pay grade."

Wrong choice of words. "I can pay you!" she said. "Whatever it takes!"

My hands shot up, palms forward to stop her. "No-no, I'm not charging you. Take it easy. I'll need to look into things further to make sure, figure out what I need to get."

There was no way in hell I was telling her that Nero had no chance of surviving an exorcism. I didn't think he was possessed, but if he were, an exorcism would tear him apart in his condition. The ceremonies weren't designed for mutts with demon blood.

"Can you tell me where he might be?" I asked before she could pry for any more information. For her own sake, she needed to swallow the lie and move on. Sweet and devoted as she was, the truth would eat her up inside.

As though in prayer, she folded her hands in front of her. "Nero said that he would wake up on the edge of the Mitis Forest and in the Order's old headquarters building often. If you're going to try to find him, please be careful if Black is still in control when you do."

I was unsure if she was worried for my sake or telling me not to hit him too hard. "Don't worry, I'll behave," I said with a half-bow.

If only it were that easy. I had no idea what to do if I met Black again.

And I had even less of an idea of what to do if I found Nero.

* * *

 **Life is hard for Dante when the solution to a problem is not just "hit thing."**


	4. Midnight

**Take a shot every time Nero gets carried in one of my fics. I mean, don't. You would die.**

* * *

I couldn't open my eyes until the ringing faded enough that it no longer felt like a power drill whirring into my skull. But I knew where I was without having to look - the Order's library. Always that damn library. Black could have picked worse places to roost, really. At least the library was quiet, empty. No one to bother me as I put my head back together.

No one for Black to hurt.

My recollection was like a collage made of paper scraps, and I struggled to put the pieces back. Dante had shown up for some reason. It was his fault I'd fallen out of bed- No, I'd rolled off the couch. And I'd been on the couch because…

Yamato - I had it again somehow. As I curled and uncurled the claws of my right hand, I could feel the swell of dark power within my arm. Any other time, having Yamato was like salve on a burning wound, cool and calming, but I wasn't supposed to have it, and neither was Black.

He must have been the one to retrieve it, sometime after I'd started cooking. I couldn't recall the exact point when my memory went dark. My talk with Dante was a fading blur. It could have been a dream. For a moment, I wondered if it had been, but no, I'd definitely seen Dante again standing in my doorway with a smile like he was some regular visitor.

If Dante had met Black and I wasn't dead, that either meant that Dante had let Black go, or Black had found some fighting prestige and kicked the old man's ass. The thought was almost entertaining, but a bone-deep ache between my shoulders assured me that Black sucked just as much as always. Another bruise for my growing collection.

I was back at the same table and seat I'd taken last time I was in the library, however long ago that had been. Part of my aching head reminded me that it had only been yesterday. I would have preferred not remembering at all.

Wanting Yamato away again, I opened my hand, waiting for it to slip into place. I wasn't sure where I would put the sword, but somewhere, anywhere away from me. Summoning Yamato was second nature, like breathing or walking. I didn't have to think about it much until that moment, when it didn't budge from my arm.

With a growl, I closed my eyes and tensed my Bringer. Like I'd plunged my arm into a pool of ink, I pawed blindly in cold darkness only to find nothing, not Yamato, not any of the artifacts. I couldn't grasp a single thing.

"Alright, great," I said, rubbing my hand across my face. "Great. Great. Great. Everything is great. Fuck you too, Black. You know what? I don't even care. It doesn't matter! I don't care!"

And yelling that to myself repeatedly was great proof.

"I'm just going to get something to eat. I'm starving. I don't care about Yamato, stupid fucking sword. Stupid goddamn arm." I slammed the Bringer against the table, no pain reaching me through its hide. The blue glow lit up the record book I'd left the day before, still open to the same page with the same dumb questions I'd written.

But the page wasn't the same. My first question - "Who are you?" - had a single clean line swiped through it. The second question had a response.

"What do you want?" I'd written in my usual chicken scratch, and in clear, flowing script, someone had answered, "What's mine."

"Stupid," I said as I placed my hands on the table to push myself upright. "I'm hungry." The feeling eating at my stomach was less like hunger and more like nausea, so sharp that a knife to the gut would have hurt less. My vision dimmed once I found my feet, and the first few steps were unsteady. "This is what happens when you keep me from eating, asshole," I muttered. The eggs weren't going to be good by the time I made it home, though, for all I knew, Dante could have eaten them all.

Dragging myself under and over the fallen obstacles that made up the path back to the bridge was more of a challenge when my feet refused to go in a straight line, and my vision seemed to lag every time I turned my head.

"This is how I'll die," I said as I crawled under a beam. "Rest in fucking pieces, Nero, who starved to death in an abandoned building like a moron."

With my vague recollection of the layout, I made it outside, but that gave me a new problem. Getting back to the bridge required me to climb down the outside wall at an angle, or risk falling into the ocean. Whining would get me nothing but hungrier, though. Digging my claws into the wall, I pressed the soles of my boots against the cracks in the white stone and started down.

"This is fun," I huffed as my vision swam. "I'm having a great time. Aren't you, Black?"

All that kept me from the waves below were the claws of my Bringer. Once I had them locked into the stone, I had no reason to fear falling. The problem was every time I had to wrench them free to hook myself into a new spot. Each time, I would slide down a fraction as the traction of my boots failed me, and my human hand helped even less. The skin tore from my fingers and palm, leaving a bloody mess of handprints along the pristine stone. Most times I could toss out a phantom grip over the distance and get myself back to stable ground in seconds, but I couldn't even summon that ability. I felt twice as heavy as usual, and my head swam until my claws slipped past their mark, losing my grip altogether.

"Shit!" I yelped as I felt the pressure of the wall vanished from my feet. My hands pawed at empty air. Before I could try to think of a solution, stone met my back hard enough to rip away my breath. Each gasp to regain it tore at my lungs and throat. Stone was good, though. That meant I'd reached the bridge.

Lying there was all I could think to do. The sky consumed my vision. Stars must have been overhead, but they blurred into a tapestry of light and dark. The sun had still been up before Black took over. I wondered how long it had been.

"Hey, kid!" I heard, as though things couldn't have gotten any worse. "You alright? That looked painful."

The strain of trying to roll myself over took away any plans to respond. Dragging my feet under me, I managed to push myself up and stumble into a haphazard balance. Dante was halfway down the bridge, his strides long as he headed for me. Though his hands were down at his sides, I could see how tense he was even at a distance, ready to pull his weapons at any moment.

I couldn't help but take a step back. Without Yamato, I was unarmed against him. "I'm fine," I said. "What's…? Did something…?" I couldn't find the right question, and my ear started ringing, growing louder with every step he took toward me like an oncoming train.

"I met your friend," he said. "He's a little rude."

He said something else, but I couldn't hear him anymore. The ringing was so loud that I crushed my hand to my ear, trying to block it out. The ground tilted beneath me, and the dark sky bled down over the world.

Through a strangling, smothering wall, I could hear Dante saying...something. A grip snapped around the wrist of my Bringer, and the world crashed back into me at Dante's yell of, "Nero! We're not doing this again!"

"What aren't we doing again?" I tried to ask, but the words slurred together into a mess. Above me, I found Dante holding tight to my Bringer, though I didn't remember raising it. All that work getting to my feet had been for nothing because I was on my back again, or I would have been had Dante not had an arm around my shoulders.

"No," I grumbled, putting my human hand on his shoulder to push him away. "Do not touch me. Who said you could?"

He let go with a snap of movement that almost sent me to the ground again. As my hands shot to keep me upright, Dante crossed his arms. "You doing alright?" he asked. "I can barely understand you."

"Fantastic," I said as I set to work trying to stand again. "Just dizzy."

"Do you have Yamato?"

I bit my tongue and froze with my knees bent under me. He must have already known the answer. He'd known I had Yamato the day I first found it, before he'd even seen it in my hand.

"Yeah," I said at length. No point in lying.

"Can you give it to me?"

Firey anger licked at my chest for an instant. The sword was mine. He'd already admitted that. Despite how illogical I knew the thought was, I struggled to snuff out the swell of spite. I had to remind myself that letting him take the sword would have been helpful. I didn't want the damn thing.

"I'd love to," I said, "but it doesn't feel like listening to me anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Can't summon it." I waved my Bringer to show him, but I had to cut the action short and plant both hands on the ground again for stability.

Whether because of Yamato or because I must have looked like a drunken idiot, I found Dante frowning down at me. Serious expressions didn't suit him. He almost looked like a different person under a furrowed brow.

Though I found my feet again with a push, I struggled to keep them under me. The bridge seemed to sway like a carnival ride. I couldn't complain when Dante grabbed me by the arm to keep me from tipping over.

"You're a mess, aren't you kid?" he sighed.

"I'm just dizzy." No matter how hard I rubbed at my face, I couldn't seem to keep the earth still. "It's been a long day."

"Didn't you just wake up?"

Maybe, but all the days had felt like a blur of eternity lately. I couldn't tell one from the other, not with Black taking so many pieces away. "A long day," I repeated with a sigh.

"Same for me, kid," Dante said with one of those lazy grins back on his face. "Guess I'll have to get you back because your feet won't be doing you any good."

I wouldn't have argued against some assistance had he not tugged my arms over his shoulders. My spluttered attempts did nothing, and he hooked his arms under my knees. I hadn't been carried piggyback since, god, I must have been ten. I was not going to let Dante of all people humiliate me like that.

"If you try to carry me like this, I will put you in a chokehold," I spat, pushing against his shoulders in an attempt to pry myself away. His grip on my legs kept me locked in place somehow, the bastard.

"Kid, you couldn't strangle a mouse in your condition," he said as he started back toward the island. "It would be cute if it weren't so sad. Just keep talking to me so I can make sure you aren't going to go ballistic again."

His words felt like a bucket of cold water doused over my head. He did mention meeting Black, but no one had ever described it like that. "Ballistic?" I echoed. "Did it...fight you?"

"By 'it' you mean that thing Kyrie called Black, right? Weird choice of name. I would have gone with something like Fido or Princess."

"Wait, you talked to Kyrie?" I clutched my head to keep it together as questions flooded in.

"Kyrie stopped by and filled me in after your whatever-it-is decided to stab me and skedaddle."

He sounded so calm, flippant even, but I felt like another blow had stolen my air. "It attacked you?" I asked in a voice too weak to be my own. "It's never… I don't think…" Black was only supposed to hurt me, no one else, not even Dante. If it hurt other people, then it was no longer just my problem. It was theirs too, and I couldn't put that on other people.

"Relax," Dante said, glancing back with another smile. I wondered how he could wear them so easily. "Everyone stabs me. Don't you remember the first time we met? It's practically how people say hello to me."

I didn't want to look at him. The world was spinning too much, and my head ached. Everything ached, and seeing him smiling despite all that made me want to tear my Bringer into his face or scream or just fucking cry. He didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't know what he was getting into. He didn't know a damn thing, and neither did I.

I wasn't sure which one of us I hated more.

I was nearing the edge of something, something unhinged and ugly, so I dropped my face against his shoulder to keep myself from seeing anymore. "How long ago did Black take over?" I asked, certain I didn't want the answer.

"Uh, it's been a few hours." Maybe it was the new angle, but his voice seemed softer. "Takes so long to get to this headquarters from the city. How was that practical?"

A few hours was longer than usual. Much longer.

"It doesn't take that long to get here," I said. "You just follow the market street. It's a straight shot here. Please don't take some weird path back."

"Oh, that would probably have been better."

I didn't even want to know what absurd route he'd taken. "How'd you know how to find me?"

"Kyrie said you've been spending a lot of time here."

"Yeah, no one goes to the library. It's quiet." After the words left me, I wondered why I'd bothered to lie, but then again, it wasn't technically a lie. Just the first thing that came to my addled mind.

"How are you feeling?" Dante asked with a slight nudge of his shoulder against my forehead. "I don't want you falling asleep, alright?"

"Hungry."

What exhaustion I did have snapped away at Dante's barking laugh. "Same here! I'm starved. Kyrie said something about you not eating much. When was the last time you ate?"

Silence pressed in like some demons circling us as I struggled to recall.

"Kid?" Dante pressed.

"I had a piece of bread last night."

"And?"

I couldn't make sense of the question at first, couldn't understand what more there needed to be. "Put some jam on it," I said.

"Right. And the last time you ate before that?"

"I don't know. A couple days maybe." I'd had some sort of soup that tasted like nothing. Eating that could have been years ago.

Dante breathed a sound like a stifled growl before he spoke. "Damn, no wonder your healing's trashed. Let's get you back home so you can eat. I think I can find the way back. Maybe."

I raised my head to the blur of a world. "Dante."

"No, don't worry. I'm sure I can-"

"Dante, why do you care?"

His lazy gait faltered for a moment.

"I know you act all chummy, but we hardly know each other," I continued. "And it's not like we're paying you. Wait, are we paying you?"

He turned enough for me to see his smile, but he wasn't looking at me. "It's all coming out of your account, kid."

"It had better not be," I hissed. If Kyrie could manage something like that, I wouldn't have put it past her.

His laugh was empty as he turned forward. "No, it's not. We just need to stick together when things get weird. Look after each other and all that."

"Why?" I asked. That sounded cheesy even for Dante.

His voice fell so soft that I almost couldn't hear him over his trudging footsteps. "Who else can keep me in check but you? Who else can keep you in check but me?"

The ringing in my right ear picked up and faded away again so quickly that I didn't have time to flinch before it was gone altogether. With a deep breath that wasn't as steady as I'd hoped, I forced myself to ask what I should have much sooner. "Do you know what's wrong with me?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure, but we're going to figure it out."

With the edge of the city a hazy gleam in the distance, I almost let myself feel comfort. That would have been so easy, so simple. "And if we don't?" I asked, always having to be difficult.

"We will."

He couldn't say that for sure. "But what if I get worse?"

"I can keep you wrangled."

"What if I try to hurt Kyrie?"

"I'll make sure-"

"Would you kill me?"

I hated myself for how much it sounded like a plea, how desperate and insane I must have seemed. I'd never meant to ask him that. It had slipped out just like everything else.

His steps halted. He still didn't look back, but he didn't hesitate in his answer. "That's an unfair request, and you know it. If I were out of it, would you want to kill me?"

No, of course not. I wouldn't have wanted to kill anyone, not even an ass like him. He didn't wait for me to respond, which was for the best because my throat had constricted against me.

"You're giving up too easily," he said. "It's unlike you. Where's the fire, kid?"

"Sorry." I must not have sounded genuine through a grumble, but I'd never been good at apologies. "I'm just really pissed about this whole thing, and I'm hungry."

He turned to me again, grinning. "Aw, you're cranky."

"Shut up. It's not that."

"It sounds like it's that."

"Well then, I'm allowed to be!" Even when I smacked the side of his head, he barked another one of those laughs as he set to walking again. "Anyone would be pissed in my situation."

"I think you're just generally pissed about everything."

"I have a lot to be pissed about! My healing sucks, and my arm isn't listening to me, and everything hurts. My damn eye won't heal at all."

"Your eye?" he said, cutting my rant short. I still had plenty to complain about. "Is something wrong with…"

He was still talking, but it was like I'd tuned halfway to a different radio station. His words turned into a static buzz, and that damn ringing swam up over everything. I didn't know anything could be so loud, so loud that I thought my skull might crack.

I wanted to scream. Maybe I was screaming, but I couldn't hear it over the ear-bleeding shrill that tore through my head. When the sound cut short, and the world fell to empty silence, I welcomed it.

A voice that seemed everywhere yet soundless was all that reached me through the darkness.

"Enough. Stop talking to him, or I'll have to silence you."

* * *

 **Whoa, here he comes. Watch out boy, he's real pissed.**

 **Ahh gosh, I got some reviews. Thank y'all so much.**


	5. Stardust

**I love any chapter where I get to write terrible jokes.**

* * *

I still couldn't bring myself to move. My hands hovered in the air inches from the kid. He seemed unconscious, and I guessed that was good. Better than whatever was happening to him before, at least.

Until a few seconds before, he'd been screaming, so loud and desperate that I could hear his throat tearing itself raw. He'd thrown himself from my back, clutching his head and writhing in the snow until all at once, everything stopped. He went still, silent. His eyes were closed.

The natural quiet of the island that had been calming moments before felt eerie then. "Alright, kid," I said just to hear something. "That wasn't fun. Let's not do that again."

I refused to let myself wonder what could have caused it because I already knew that I wouldn't be able to think of an answer. My only thought was to get him home, to get him some food and sleep. We could figure out the rest later.

I placed my hand on his shoulder so I could pull him up into a carry, but the dark blue of his arm flashed to that halogen white in a warning. I jumped away before his hand shot up, before Yamato burst from it, right where my face had been.

"Now isn't really a good time, Black," I snarled as I grabbed for Rebellion. I'd had to hook the sword to my hip to put the kid on my back. I couldn't understand how the Holy Knights I'd seen all kept their swords like that. The unbalance was so irritating that I almost preferred having Rebellion in my hand. Having to wield it against the kid lessened the appeal.

I could tell it was Black just from the way his eyes iced over with fury as he placed his unstable hand under him. Despite Nero's human arm hanging limp at his side, he did manage to push himself upright. Even when he found his feet, though, his attempt to hold Yamato up faltered when he had to stumble to keep his balance.

He was so non-threatening that I felt I could have beaten him without a weapon. Jamming Rebellion's tip in the ground, I leaned against the sword. "You won't have much luck in a fight against me with his body in that state," I said. "I'd be up for a nice talk instead so I don't have to kick your ass." Well, it wasn't really his ass, but- Actually, I didn't want to follow that line of thought.

With his eyes darting over the hillside surrounding us, I had a feeling Black knew better than to chance a fight. He wanted a way out. Too bad he didn't have that luxury this round. The forest was nearby, but here, the trees were thin. The area was flat enough that he had nowhere to hide, and he sure as hell couldn't outrun me with Nero struggling to stand. Actually, Black may have been worse off than Nero somehow. When we'd fought before, I'd seen him hold the human arm braced across his middle, and now it remained dangling at his side as though the limb were dead to him. He would have no advantage in a fight.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem keen on holding a conversation, so I kept it up for him.

"It's not going to do you much good if you possess the kid when he's practically a corpse," I said. "Keep him from eating much longer, and he's going to pass out. So what do you say to us holding off on this fight? We can make a date of it if you want. I'll buy you dinner."

He did understand me. I could see that much in the way his eyes went wide before narrowing. His lip curled in disgust as he brought Yamato up between us once more.

I yanked Rebellion free in response. "Wow, I don't think I'm that bad of a date, but if you want to do things the hard way, let's do this quick so I can make sure the kid doesn't starve to death."

As I waited for him to strike, he jolted like he'd been startled. In a flash of movement, Nero's human arm shot over to Yamato, his hand missing the grip and catching half on the guard, half on the blade. Its edge bit into his flesh as he ripped the sword from the grasp of his other hand.

"Whoa! Hang on!" I barked as, my free hand raising as though I could stop him despite the gap between us. Blood coated the blade and stained the hem of his sleeve. As he turned the sword, I saw what was coming next but couldn't move fast enough to stop it. Black or Nero or whatever-the-hell rammed Yamato through his Bringer, into the underside of his forearm and out the top.

His chin dropped, and his breaths came in hisses through clenched teeth. As I stepped up to him and hesitantly placed my hand around the wrist of his human arm, his grip on the sword relaxed, and he allowed me to pull his hand away. The Bringer was still raised, tense and trembling with the sword through it.

"Kid?" I called, keeping my voice low in case I freaked him out again. His bangs hid his eyes, but with a quick gasp, he stumbled into some form of slurred speech.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what to do. This is my body, bastard."

Something like relief melded with my worry. The kid was fighting. I was glad to know that he could. I just wished he wasn't so literal about it. "Easy, kid," I said. "We'll get you home. Just stick with me."

His harsh breaths caught in his throat as the Bringer flashed again, and Yamato vanished. Great. Once I got that sword back, no one was allowed to have it again, especially not after the kid's Bringer curled into a fist, flicked back and punched him in his own face.

"What!?" I yelled, just as much in annoyance as in shock. Still gripping his wrist, I kept him from falling by holding tight and looking as though I'd dipped him in an awkward dance. This time, I was pretty sure he was out cold, blood pouring from his nose and down his lips. His hand was still bleeding too, adding color to the snow where it dripped.

"Are you kidding me?" was all I could find to say. "Alright, just stay asleep this time, or you're going to get pissed at me."

I didn't have much of a choice, so I hooked Rebellion to my back again and scooped the kid up in my arms. Nero would have hated it had he known. If he woke up as Black, and I didn't have an eye on him, I was sure he'd try to lop my head off with Yamato, so I cradled him awkwardly, his head lolling against my chest.

Once again, I set off in a rush toward the city. My mind whirled as I tried to make sense of fucking anything. Nero had stopped Black from fighting me. I could gather that much. Nero had been the one to stab himself with the sword. As far as I could tell, Black couldn't even use Nero's left arm. When it came to the punching, I was confused. Either Nero was still struggling to put Black down, or Black was pissed enough to try retaliating. Neither option was great.

I didn't need them tearing apart the kid when he was already so weak.

If Black could only use the Bringer, though, I needed some way to restrain it, some way I didn't have to hurt Nero in the process. I hadn't brought the right weapons for the job. Guns and a claymore didn't do me much good. Having Nero back at the shop would have made things a hell of a lot easier, but I wasn't too keen on the idea of trying to transport him.

Stressing him out more wouldn't help anyway.

As if the people of Fortuna didn't already love me enough, I earned a good number of horrified stares once I reached the city. Nero was a bloody mess, and everyone noticed, their hand over their mouths and their eyes accusing as they watched me pass.

No one tried to stop me, so I didn't bother to justify myself to them. I couldn't help but wonder if they might have cared more had I been carrying someone else.

"I hope I don't get us lost," was all I said, trying to lighten the mood for no one.

Between checking street signs, I'd glance down at the kid to make sure he was still breathing and not about to stab me. His nose seemed to stop bleeding, but the break in it was clear. It had cracked out of place and wasn't going to heal right if it wasn't pushed back. His hand hadn't stopped bleeding, blue sleeve stained red almost to his elbow. I was just glad all his fingers were still attached.

That weird arm was a different matter. It didn't bleed. Actually, I'd only ever seen Yamato cut it, and it could have had a completely different genetic makeup than the rest of him. Hell if I knew, but it had healed faster than anything else, new hide growing in to seal the wound.

I didn't think that should have been his body's priority with healing. It should have been vital and fleshy things first, then demonic claws.

My feet found the house for me more than my head did. I looked up to find myself in front of it, a soft yellow light shining through the window and white curtains.

Shit. Kyrie was still there.

"If she asks, this wasn't my fault," I said to Nero. He kept right-on being dead to the world.

She'd left the door unlocked, and I slipped in to find her sitting on the couch and hand-stitching one of Nero's coats. The needle hovered over fabric like she'd frozen in the moment, struck by the sight of the bloody kid in my arms.

"He's alright," I said. "Okay, well not alright, but he'll be fine."

After a few blinks, she gave a nod and shot to her feet. "I'll get the first aid kit. Is he healing at all?"

"Sort of," I called as she darted down the hall. "I'll, uh, put him on the table if that's okay."

Her voice echoed out from one of the rooms. "That's fine!" She must have been more used to this than I was.

The couch might have been more comfortable, but if I had to look at his wounds, the table was a better space. Besides, he couldn't stain any fabric with his blood this way. He didn't stir when I settled him onto the polished wood. "You're upsetting the little lady," I murmured as I checked his hand. "I'd watch out. She seems like she can be scary when she's mad."

Yamato could cut through solid rock, so I wasn't surprised to see the gashes in his fingers showing off cold, white bone. Not surprised, but not thrilled about it either. Hearing Nero speak up didn't help. Between the slurring and his bloodied nose, I struggled to decipher his words.

"Kyrie's here?" he asked. "It's not safe."

"You have some awful timing," I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "Just go back to sleep, kid. Alright?"

"Why? What's wrong?" His eyes struggled for focus as he rolled his head to check his surroundings. At the rate things were going, he'd just wake himself up, and then fixing his injuries would be a pain for both of us. No point in stalling, then.

"It's nothing," I sighed before grabbing his nose and snapping it back into place.

"Ow! Fuck!"

He was awake now.

"Language," Kyrie said as she strode into the room. I'd expected one of those lunchbox-sized first aid kits from a drug store, but the container in her arms looked more like a toolbox. The table rattled as it crashed to the surface.

"Looks handy," I said.

Despite her weary eyes, she smiled. "Yeah, Nero's a master at getting injured, so we had to splurge a bit."

"My healing was taking care of things until that bastard Black decided to pick fights with Savior-knows-what," Nero said, his voice muffled by the demonic hand clutched over his nose and mouth.

"Sorry, kid, I think the fault lies more with you on that one." I set to digging through the medical kit and was glad to find actual forceps and sutures inside. Sewing needles sucked. "If you don't eat, your body won't have the strength to heal."

"You haven't eaten!?" Kyrie's cheeks puffed, her hands on her hips.

Nero's glare shot to me, furious I'd ratted him out. "I was making food! And then things went weird."

"Oh yeah, it was good. I ate it," she said, looking no less annoyed.

"Hey!"

"It wouldn't have kept!'

Well, if I wasn't getting paid in cash, at least I was being paid in entertainment. "Alright, kids," I said, "let's fight after I get Nero's hand to quit bleeding everywhere." Nero's brow puzzled at the news, and he looked down at his hand like he'd never noticed the wounds. "Kyrie, would you mind getting us some food while I put in some stitches? I could honestly use something to eat too."

Her temper vanished for the sake of a polite smile. "Oh, of course. I'll get something whipped up quick."

"You don't need to go all out," Nero said while she stepped into the kitchen. "In fact, please make something simple." She stuck out her tongue at him, and Nero sighed, lowering his voice. "I do most of the cooking for a reason."

"I'm a good cook!" Kyrie yelled.

"I know, but you like sweets too much."

"You could use the boost in blood sugar."

"That's not how that works."

I had a feeling that if I didn't stop them, their arguments could keep going forever. "By the way," I cut in, "do you have any alcohol?"

"There should be some in the kit," Kyrie said.

"No, like, booze."

She blinked at me for a stretch before finding an answer. "Um, we have wine, but we just use it for cooking"

"No whiskey?" I clicked my tongue. "Guess wine will have to do."

It was some fancy red wine, dry and probably disgusting. I poured a full glass for the kid. "Drink up," I said as I unscrewed a bottle of peroxide.

Though his nose wrinkled, he grabbed the bottle and knocked it back, taking a few deep drinks before sticking out his tongue and making a hacking sound.

"Glass too hard to hold?" I asked.

"I thought that was for you."

A chuckle escaped me. "Not 'til after I get you fixed up."

The peroxide bubbled and hissed against his cuts. Try as he might, he couldn't hold back a cringe against it. Kyrie gave him a bowl of water and a rag to help clean his face. Before I'd even finished washing my hands in disinfectant, the water was stained with a red hue from his furious scrubbing. After he was done, he drank more from the bottle.

His poor eating habits did work great for the wine, at least. By the time I set to stitching his hand, he was solidly tipsy, leaning his head back and forth as he watched me work. "Yamato's sharp," I said just to break the silence. "Please don't try to grab it again."

"Yamato can bite me," he muttered.

"Well, it already did."

His answer was a soft growl that sounded like a puppy trying to be intimidating. I may have _accidentally_ jabbed the needle in a bit hard to dissuade him from being difficult. "I don't think you're doing that right," he said.

"I don't think you're supposed to watch while you're getting stitches." He was either putting on an impressively brave face, or the wine was doing a great job at numbing his senses because he didn't react to the forceps digging the needle in or out beyond an occasional flinch.

"Am I going to heal with that thread in my skin?" he asked.

I nodded. "Once your healing starts working again, you'll probably have to pop the stitches out."

With an annoyed hum. He took another swig of wine. "You should have just superglued it."

"It's a dissolving thread," Kyrie called from the kitchen. The air filtering in from the stove smelled of cooking garlic. "We don't keep superglue in this house because _someone_ got his hands stuck to the wall."

Nero puffed up like a startled bird. "I was nine!"

"He thought he could climb it," Kyrie said to me with a grin. I smiled in return. It was good to know that if I ever needed blackmail against the kid for any reason, Kyrie would be happy to provide. It was also nice to see that she could still joke despite whatever was going on. The kid needed someone to keep him from stewing all the time, and he didn't appreciate my jokes.

"Is it really safe for her to be here?" Nero grumbled. I couldn't tell if he was genuinely worried or just annoyed. His occasional sips of wine had his cheeks burning red already.

"Well, if you get drunk enough, I don't think Black will be able to do much of anything."

I'd meant it as a joke, but he took a deep drink from the bottle and kept at it even after I finished his stitches. He even took my glass. "That's not nice," I said. "I'm your guest."

He shushed me, smacking his hand against my face. "This is my house. Didn't even invite you."

My shoulders bounced against my attempts to hide my snickering. "I think I like you better like this, kid."

"I think I'd like you better if you shut your whore mouth."

"Language!" Kyrie called.

"Whore isn't a curse word," Nero said. Some wine splattered onto his shirt as he tipped the glass toward his mouth. "It's a fact."

I couldn't help it. I wheezed with laughter, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. His angered protests only made me laugh harder.

"You two behave," Kyrie said, shooing Nero away from his attempt to claw off my face. "Food's ready." As soon as she handed him the bowl of pasta, Nero's eyes lit up, and he plopped back down to sit contentedly on top of the table and eat. "Too good for the chairs, huh?" Kyrie said.

He shoveled a forkful of the noodles into his mouth. "Like it up here."

Dusting the excess blood and peroxide from my hands onto my pants, I took the other bowl from her with a nod and a "Thanks." The sauce was fancier than anything I ever bothered to make or eat, some mix of oil, garlic, and whatever the tiny leaves were.

Nero was so amused watching the noodles twirl around his fork that he wasn't doing all that much eating. "Kid," I said, grabbing his weak attention span. "Feel up to talking about what happened back there?"

He considered it for a full five seconds before answering. "Back where?"

"On the way back here, when you were trying to make me gray early."

"You're...already gray," he mumbled, squinting at my hair. We were getting nowhere fast.

"What happened when Black took over?"

"Oh, that." His expression faded to worn sadness. "I can't remember well. Everything was so loud. My head felt like it was going to burst. I could only see flashes sometimes, but I could hear everything Black was saying."

"Saying?" Kyrie echoed. "He talked?"

No, he hadn't. Not that time. My brow furrowed as I tried to think of what Nero could be talking about. "He didn't say anything to me," I said.

"Really?" Nero shoved another forkful of pasta in his mouth. "He told me to shut up. Didn't like me talking to you."

Though I still couldn't make sense of Nero hearing Black, another realization snapped into place. Both times I'd seen Black take over had been when Nero was telling me something about his condition. Whatever that thing was, it didn't want for me to know too much. If that was the case, it must have had a weakness, some solution I could find to get rid of it.

"Has he ever talked to you before this?" I asked.

Nero shook his head and must have liked the feeling because he kept shaking it. His voice wavered from the movement. "But there's the ringing."

"In your deaf ear?" I asked.

He moved on to endless nodding. "And Yamato wouldn't shut up."

"Yamato talked to you?" As far as I'd experienced, Yamato was as chatty as Rebellion. As in, it wasn't. Despite the anxiety creeping into my gut, Nero was quite content, falling over to lie on the tabletop.

"Not talking, but like-" He made a horrible, ear-piercing shrieking sound. "I think she was mad that I put her away." His eyes rolled up as another thought pulled at his attention. "Is Yamato a she? Is that a boy or girl name? Red Queen is a girl, so I know that."

"What about Blue Rose?" Kyrie asked, a smile bleeding through her confusion.

Closing his eyes, Nero hummed in thought. "Blue Rose… can be either. They can be whatever they want. I love them either way." His eyes flashed open and caught sight of me. "What about your guns, Dante?"

I'd never considered it before, and I wasn't going to then. "Well," I said. "They're guns."

What started as a soft snicker turned into a barking laugh as the kid doubled over, clutching his stomach. At least he was a happy drunk. "Fuck, man," he said between gasps. "They sure are."

"Language." Kyrie placed a light smack to the side of his head before taking his mostly-empty bowl. "You're getting seconds, so you'd better eat them."

"Fine."

"Dante, you can have more too."

While it sounded like an offer, she didn't wait for my answer. She took my bowl from me like she had him and refilled them both with pasta. Pushing up to my toes, I could see that the pot wasn't anywhere close to empty. "I made too much," she admitted when she handed me back my bowl. "I'm not good at measuring pasta. Nero, you have to sit up if you're going to eat."

An eloquent drunk, Nero booed her before pushing himself back up to sit. If I wanted to ask questions that might provoke Black, that was as good of a time as any. Not only would Black have trouble attacking me with the kid drunk, but Nero was painfully honest from the alcohol.

"Is it good?" Kyrie asked him as he took another bite of pasta.

He shrugged.

"Kyrie," I said as she settled into a pout. "I want to try asking Nero some things. I figure it'll be entertaining. Not that I think Black could manage all that much if he took over right now, but could you go to the living room?"

I knew better than to try asking her to leave. She would have argued with me, and I had a feeling that I would have about as much luck with that as Nero did. Though she hesitated, shifting her weight between her feet, she gave in with a nod and went back to the couch to pick up her stitching.

I just hoped things would go differently from before, or she was likely to find some way to use that sewing needle as a weapon against me. "Kid," I called to grab his attention. "You feeling better?"

With a frown, he poked at his pasta. "I guess."

"You're awfully helpful, you know that?"

He shrugged again. "It would help if you'd go fuck yourself."

"Language!" Kyrie called. "I'll bring out the swear jar. Don't think I won't!"

Nero heaved a sigh. "Fine. I get it." Looked like he could be made to behave after all. "Well, my brain isn't trying to melt, so I guess I'm better. I still ache to high hell, and I'd really like to sleep, but yeah, I'm better."

"What about your eye?" I asked.

His head listed to the side like a confused dog's. "What about it?"

"You mentioned it earlier, said it wouldn't heal."

"Oh, yeah, look." Leaning forward, he grabbed my hand and pulled it up to his face. I was still holding a fork, so I had to twirl it out of the way so he wouldn't stab himself in the cheek with it. He watched my face as I tried to make sense of what he wanted me to do with his. When I moved my fingers directly in front of his right eye, he paid no mind.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I muttered. "If you want me to just appreciate your good looks, kid, I think there are better ways."

"No! My eye. Look."

He didn't even say which eye. They both looked fine to me, no cuts or redness. Just cold blue. Bringing up the fork, I moved it back in forth in front of his vision as though testing for a concussion. For all I knew, brain damage could have been an issue.

When the fork was at his left, he followed its movements with a bouncing, curious gaze, but when I moved it to his right, he tried to turn his head to follow it. "Stay still, you lush," I said, grabbing his jaw to hold him in place. Instantly, he lost sight of the fork, his eyes darting in search of it. That probably wasn't good. "Can you see out of your right eye at all?" I asked.

"No. I think Black messed it up somehow." Bushing my hands away, he went back to eating like he hadn't told me anything out of the ordinary. "Dunno if it'll heal," he said around a mouthful of pasta.

"You didn't tell me that!" Kyrie fumed from the living room. "You should really have a doctor look at it if it's your eye."

Nero didn't respond. He'd gone quiet again, staring down at his Bringer.

"You still have control, kid?" I asked, taking a step back.

He jerked his head up with a snort. "I haven't had control once in my whole life. I think I made Black mad."

"I'm not sure he's ever not mad. What's wrong?" Because the one thing I needed was more problems to not understand.

Dropping his fork in the bowl, Nero reached over and wrapped his human hand around his devil one. He pulled the limb up before letting go and watching it smack back down to the tabletop. Limp. Useless.

Kyrie's voice shook as she spoke. "I don't understand. What did he do?"

"I don't know, but I can't move it," Nero said.

He may have been right about making Black mad. It may have been able to wrestle control of his arm away as revenge. Whatever that thing was, it seemed like it could take control as it pleased, and it must have known that it wouldn't be able to fight with Nero drunk, so it had given in and let Nero tell me what it had been trying to hide before. But why, I had no idea. Knowing that Nero had lost his sight in one eye didn't reveal anything to me beyond more questions. Unless…

I held my expression even, not wanting to show the horror that was eating me up. If Black could take away control of the arm, it could have taken away control of the eye too. And if I kept asking questions, it might have been able to take more in rebuttal. The bastard must have had some kind of grudge against me having a conversation with the kid.

And I still had no idea what the damn thing was or how to get rid of it.

For the moment, at least, Black didn't have much control over Nero's left side, just the right. I would have thought the Bringer to be more difficult for a demon to try to control, but that almost seemed to be where Black's power stemmed from.

My eyes narrowed as another thought struck me. Maybe the issue wasn't the arm.

"When was Yamato screaming at you?" I asked.

Nero was drunk enough to not take much stock in anything, so he'd moved his bowl between his crossed legs and was still managing to eat. "Last night," he said. "I locked it away because the last time I'd grabbed it was when Black took over. The sword was fucking pissed about it. Would not shut up. I was trying to sleep."

The sword may have been what was possessed if that were possible. Black had still taken over when Nero didn't have Yamato, and devil arms already had demon souls in them, so I couldn't make much sense of that, but it was my only lead. Regardless, getting Yamato away from the kid would save me some grief and wounds, so that was my next step.

I was still working on how I'd get it done.

"I didn't know you were capable of thinking that hard," Nero said, yanking me from my rumination. "Look at you go. Be careful, you might pull something."

Dropping my hand to the top of his head, I ruffled his hair until he growled in offense. "Hush, you little drunk," I said. "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't want your help!" He shoved my hand away while wearing the least threatening pout I'd ever seen. "I want… a nap."

I snorted. The kid was a damn riot while drunk. Once this was all sorted, I'd have to take him out to a bar sometime. The entertainment would be worth the price of the few shots it would take to get him wasted.

"Make sure you drink some water before you sleep, or you'll be even crankier when you wake up," I said before turning to the girl in the living room. She was still stitching away, her expression heavy with worry. I wished I could have given her some assured comfort. Even my lies were starting to wear too thin to work. "Do you have a phone I could borrow?" I asked instead.

"Oh, sure," she said, blinking as though she'd woken from a dream. "There's one on the kitchen counter."

I didn't know many people other than myself who still had a landline, but that was what I found. Snatching it up, I told Kyrie to yell for me if the kid did anything weird, and darted back to the furthest room down the hall. I wanted to make sure Black couldn't hear.

Luckily, I didn't appear to have barged into Kyrie's room by accident. Despite how tidy the room was, everything was coated in a layer of dust. A guest room, I guessed.

I got an answer on the second ring. "What?" she snarled.

"Hey, Lady, it's-"

"Dante, you jackass, who takes a 'vacation' to Fortuna without telling anyone beforehand?"

I had to hold the phone away from my ear to keep her from deafening me. "Glad you missed me," I said. "How'd you figure out I was in Fortuna? Have you been stalking me?"

She made a gagging sound. "I just shaded over the note you left to see the imprint of the last thing you'd written. Saw the address. This is basic stuff, idiot."

"Neat party trick. Listen, I need some assistance."

"Oh?" Her tone lightened with interest. "The great son of Sparda needs my help?"

"I'm glad you think I'm great. Actually, it's about Nero. Something's weird with the kid." If I went into too much detail, Lady would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"That's the boy with the glow stick arm, right? I think he was already on the bad side of normal, but what's up?"

"He's having an issue with Yamato, and I need to get the sword away, but I have to get it out of his arm first. It's sort of stuck."

"Oh wow," she drawled. "The dark, evil murder sword is causing problems. Who would have thought? Have you tried cutting the arm off?"

"Next time I'm calling Trish."

"Have you tried killing him?"

"Yep, going to Trish next time."

She snickered. I could practically see the spiteful amusement in those two-toned eyes. "Alright, so what do you want me to do?"

"I need for you to bring me some things."

* * *

 **Dante is oblivious and bad at this. A second opinion might help.**

 **Extra special thanks to my reviewers!**


	6. First Light

**I love writing Dante and Nero as the most awkward uncle and nephew pair trying to figure out how this whole family thing works.**

 **I also like making up dumb headcanons.**

* * *

The pasta Kyrie had made was an old staple of her family. Six ingredients, so simple that we could make it as kids. Nothing made me think of home like that odd mix of parsley, oil, and garlic.

Too bad I couldn't taste a damn thing.

"Are you upset about your arm?" Kyrie asked. She sat on her knees at the edge of the kitchen, watching me with troubled eyes and a hesitant smile.

A sniffle tore through me. "No," I said, pouring more red pepper flakes on my pasta. "My mouth is on fire." I wasn't sure if I could taste the pepper flakes either, but my lips were burning, and I was content to have some reaction to the food. To get to the seasonings, I'd climbed off the table and gone to the kitchen, but standing was a lot of work, so I'd taken up residence on the cool tile floor, leaning against the cabinets. I liked sitting. Sitting was nice. Lying down would have been even better. Kyrie had scolded me for that, though.

"Right," she drawled. "Don't hurt yourself."

Her smile widened as I waved my fork at her. This wasn't funny. "You're supposed to be at least twenty meters away." I'd told her at least three times. Maybe six. Maybe twelve.

"I would be outside if I were that far away," she said. "You're crying, you know. Maybe you should take it easy."

Patting my face, I found my cheeks wet. That explained why everything was blurry. "Oh, I'm crying out of both eyes," I said. Despite the sharp pain that came with it, a grin found its way to my face. "Maybe Black is hurting too."

A knock rattled the front door, and Kyrie heaved a sigh as she stood. "I don't know what you're talking about, but stop doing whatever you're doing. Behave. I'll be right back."

If we were getting visitors late at night, it was because of something I'd done. People expected me to be out on patrols past dark, so they'd whine to Kyrie about me when I was gone. I'd learned to stop caring back when they would complain to Credo before her.

As Kyrie slipped out of sight toward the front door, I leaned from side to side, watching the kitchen sway in a lazy, comforting rhythm. I'd never had so much wine before. It made the world feel soft and warm, like being under a mound of blankets.

That stopped short when my Bringer shot up and slapped me across the face. I heard the sound before anything else, a smack that made me realize my head had been jerked to the side. The pain didn't catch up until after I'd blinked a few times, trying to understand what had happened.

"Oh, fuck you," I hissed, my cheek stinging like my mouth as I brought down my fork against the now-limp hand. The metal prongs bent against the stupid scaley hide of the thing. I felt nothing, not that I'd expected to. Besides the weight of it at my side, I might as well have not had an arm. All feeling cut off at my right shoulder. If I'd closed my eyes and reached over with my left, I would have expected to meet empty air.

But the Bringer was still there, and Black seemed to have infected it with whatever he was. "I'm not your fucking puppet," I said, trying to keep my voice low against the conversation in the other room. Kyrie was arguing with someone, probably about me. I didn't need to prove whomever right by showing off how crazy I was, talking to my damn arm.

Just because we had guests didn't mean Black was going to get away with being a prick, though. Rolling over to the fridge, I wrenched the door open and smacked my useful hand down on the strawberry carton. The damn thing might as well have been a bear trap for all the luck I had trying to open it with one hand. In my struggles, the smooth plastic slipped out of my grasp and hit the floor. I had to sit up and put the container between my feet to pry it open.

I might have eaten some of the leaves along with the first strawberry I bit into.

"There you are."

Glancing up, I found Dante grinning like an idiot.

"Don't break open those stitches trying to crawl around, you lush," he said as he dropped to his haunches. I tried to smack his hand away when he grabbed for a strawberry, but I might as well have been a cat batting a toy. "Your new visitor seems rude. Gave me the ugliest look just now."

"Shut up. Of course, they're rude. You're the worst." I shoved another strawberry in my mouth. "I'm mad."

He snorted a laugh. "I've noticed. But it's kind of hard to pull off anger when you're eating fruit, kid."

That sounded like a challenge to me. "I'll show him," I snarled. "Fucker thinks he can use my body."

Dante plucked the stem from the strawberry with a quick flick of his hand. "I wouldn't recommend going around saying it like that. How do we even know it's a he? Could be a she. A lot of demons don't even have genders."

"Look, I don't want to think about that. No option is good, and I'm too drunk."

His smile was so wide that it showed his age in the corners of his eyes. He must have been like forty, and if he could survive that long, there was no way some dumb thing was killing me now. I was way less stupid than Dante.

"Everyone is less stupid than Dante."

"Thanks, kid," he said.

"You're welcome?" I wasn't sure why he was thanking me until I realized I'd spoken aloud. "Whoops," I muttered, scratching at my neck.

As the door slammed shut, I stuffed another strawberry in my mouth. "You know you're not supposed to eat the stems," Dante said, but Kyrie's howls of irritation drowned him out.

"I appreciate the concern!" She stalked back into the kitchen, shoulders taut near her ears. "But they should really be used to- Nero, no! What are you doing!?" Rushing in, she snatched the strawberries away. My attempt to grab them from her came up short.

"Black slapped me," I explained as she slammed the carton down on the kitchen counter. Any other time I could have gotten it back without issue, but getting to the countertop would have been like climbing a mountain at that moment. The air felt thin enough for it.

"Hang on, what?" Dante asked as I leaned over and took a bite of the strawberry in his hand.

Kyrie smacked the back of my head each time I chewed. "No! Stop that!" she demanded. "Ugh, that's it! You're not allowed to drink ever again."

For some reason, I couldn't help but laugh, even when she stormed over to the first aid kit and started rifling through it. I just laughed harder, clutching my aching gut as I struggled for air. My laughs became quick wheezes.

"Are you allergic to strawberries?" Dante's voice was so flat that I almost didn't recognize it as his.

"That'll show him," I tried to say. It came out as a hiss of breath, and I fell over, still fighting to laugh as my mind grew hazier. The kitchen dimmed, and I felt even more distant and floaty than before.

The familiar sting of a needle jammed into my leg brought me back. "Eating my strawberries," she grumbled. "What's gotten into you? Terrible. You owe me for those, and for the pen. These things are expensive, you know."

"Kid, please stop hurting yourself to get back at Black. It's doing more to you than him."

Maybe, but if it did anything to him, it was worth it. I didn't have any other way to fight back. I had nothing against him. He could take over at any moment, could take my arm from me like it was nothing. I really could have been just some puppet he was playing with for all the power I had over him.

I'd managed to hold control before for the first time, but I couldn't say if that were a fluke. At the time, I felt like I should have been asleep. The world had gone dark like I'd drifted to the bottom of the ocean. I felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, but I knew I wasn't asleep. I knew that I should have been conscious, and reaching out with whatever was left of me, I found my ability to hear again. It started muffled and distant, but I recognized Dante's voice, and I latched onto it until I was able to wrench myself to the surface.

From there, everything was hazy. I couldn't remember much beyond pain. Everything hurt, but especially my head. My skull must have cracked in two. Black had said something to me then, but it was so loud that I couldn't understand anything beyond the pain cutting through my head.

Fighting had been hellish torture. Passing out had been so easy.

I didn't want to give in, but if fighting back meant that much suffering every time, I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. I would fight for as long as I could, but there was only so much of me. Only so much I could endure.

No matter what I did, no matter how I'd changed, I would always be so damn weak.

"Looks like it's already putting him out," Kyrie sighed. "I don't really want for him to sleep on the floor. Sorry, Dante, could you carry him to his room?"

I tried to refuse and say I could get there myself, but the only sound I made was a growl. The limbs I could feel were so fuzzy that they must have been stuffed with wool. I couldn't even remember how to make myself roll anymore.

Dante put his arms under my knees and around my shoulders, and- Fuck no! I would not be carried like some damn princess. Again, my arguing got me nowhere. A slur of grumbles fell from my lips.

"No whining, sunshine. You got yourself into this mess," Dante said. "I'm just doing as instructed."

"Nero, don't be a baby," Kyrie added.

I was trying not to be. They were the ones treating me like it.

Unable to find any strength in my body, I had no choice but to hang in Dante's arms until the yellow light behind my eyelids turned to darkness, and I felt myself dropped to my bed.

"Am I going to have to get you out of that coat, kid?" Dante asked.

Though my tongue still stuck against me, I answered as best I could. "Fuck...off."

"Alright, sleep in your gross, blood-soaked clothes. That's on you."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Kyrie said. I could tell just from her tone that her arms were crossed and that she was looking away from me, pouting. "I hope you remember how dumb you've been when you wake up."

I was pretty sure I would. I was bound to regret everything too, but I couldn't bring myself to care then. The bed felt familiar and safe, even if it had never been all that comfortable. I liked it more than the couch or the table or the fucking ground. I tried not to wonder who was taking my boots off because having my feet free was a relief.

Dante's voice seemed to come in through a wall when he spoke next. "Hate to ask this, Kyrie, but do you have somewhere else to stay, at least for the night? I know kicking you out of your own house is weird, but it would be best if you weren't in an enclosed space with me and him if Black takes over again. And I want to keep an eye on him until I get some proper equipment in."

I was glad he asked when I couldn't. Kyrie would have stayed otherwise.

"For an exorcism?" she asked. That didn't sound fun, but if it got rid of Black, I was up for whatever weird rituals Dante had up his sleeve.

"Something like that. Until I can get things sorted, he's unpredictable. And he's whiny about you sticking around. I think he's trying to show that he's worried."

"I understand." She must have been wearing that sad smile. "I'm still working to get stronger, so he doesn't have to look after me so much. I know I'm just human, so..." She sighed. "Kind of useless."

"Hey, I know a human who can kick my ass," Dante said with a chuckle. "And Nero's the one causing all the trouble here, so don't beat yourself up."

No, it was all Black's fault, not mine.

Alright, some of it may have been my fault, but most of it was his.

Some of it was probably Dante's fault too. He was always a pain.

"Is there a room I can take?" he asked. "That one at the end of the hall open?"

Always a pain.

"Oh, not that one." Kyrie must have been wringing her hands. "But you can have the one on the left side."

"Thanks!" I could hear the lazy smile in his voice. "I'll make sure to look after the kid while you're gone."

"Thank you. Um, I'll leave a number by the phone in case you need me." Her voice grew distant. "Goodnight, Nero. Behave." With every shift and creak of the old hardwood floors, I tracked her tiptoeing through the house as she drifted toward the kitchen then to the door. I'd never been able to sneak out because of the damn floor giving me away.

When the front door closed behind her, Dante sighed. "I need a shower. I hope you have hot water here." Despite his words, I could feel him take a step closer. My right shoulder shifted, and I guessed he was messing with my arm. I wished I could have sunk my claws into him for it, but that was up to Black.

The bastard must have felt about the same about Dante messing with my arm because ringing shot through my head like someone had cracked a glass with a tuning fork. I choked on a whine, unable to stifle it. My shoulder fell slack as Dante must have dropped my arm.

"He doesn't belong to you," Dante said in a dark, commanding tone I'd never heard from him before. "Let him go. There's no need to make him suffer."

My skin grew cold from a rush of nausea as the omniscient voice I'd heard before crashed through my head like thunder, shattering my thoughts.

"His life is mine. He owes me this. Stop interfering."

I couldn't tell if I made a sound, so stunned by the agony of it all, but as I dragged myself back together, I realized that my whole body was taut, wound up like a coiled spring. I hadn't been able to feel much of myself between the drug and the alcohol, but every sense assaulted me then. I thought I might snap in half at any moment.

Dante seemed to speak to me from the end of a tunnel. "Easy, kid, easy. Breathe. You're still with me."

I must have looked so weak, so fucking weak. He talked to me like I was some child waking up from a nightmare. I hated that his words helped me find my breath again, but beneath his fumbling attempt to sound soothing was a waver of anxiety. He must have thought that Black would take over at any moment.

If he thought that, he shouldn't have still been close to me. People didn't stick close to me, and they absolutely did not touch me. Kyrie was the only one left who would, yet Dante's hand rested over my closed eyes. Despite the calluses across his fingers and palm, I couldn't help but let the tension ease from my eyes. The ache in my head faded along with it.

"Neat trick, huh?" Dante's laugh was as quiet as it was forced. "I always used it for headaches. Good to know it works on calming down feral kids too."

Even though I wanted to hit him, my breathing leveled against my will. With the pain slipping away, I was fading along with it. He must have thought I was already gone because I heard him whisper, "I'll be here, kid. I've got you. Just get some rest."

I guessed that him calling me kid was fair now. I was acting like one. As though reading my mind, Black shoved me off into the abyss of sleep with one last jolt of pain. "Weak," he snarled.

I didn't dream. Actually, I hadn't dreamt for some time.

* * *

Either Dante learned to back off on his pain in the ass schtick overnight, or he knew that I would kick his ass if he said a single word about anything that had happened the previous day.

"How's your head?" he called when I stumbled out of my room and into the hall. I couldn't see him, but he must have been on the couch.

"Bearable," I answered. Nothing a quick shower wouldn't fix. "I thought hangovers were supposed to be worse."

"You're still young. Life gets worse."

"If it gets any worse than having to deal with you, it's not worth it."

"Always with the dramatics," he said with a laugh.

I took a quick, lukewarm shower, enough to wake me up and clear off the layers of blood and sweat. After pulling on some of the baggy clothes I'd picked up for cheap, I braved going into the living room to deal with Dante. He looked about the same as I last remembered, so I couldn't tell if he'd showered or changed clothes. Actually, I didn't remember him having a bag or anything when he showed up, so he likely didn't have a new set of clothes. Gross.

"You look cozy," he said.

Shoving my hand in my hoodie pocket probably proved his point more than it looked off-putting. "Well, are we going out today?" I asked.

"Probably not."

"Then it doesn't matter. I don't have many other clothes left, and if I'm staying home, I'm going to be comfortable. Do you need something new to wear?"

His eyes shifted to their corners, and he scratched his cheek. "I wouldn't...mind. Do you even have anything else to wear? Actually, would I fit in your clothes?"

No, he wouldn't have. I didn't tell him that. Had she been there, Kyrie would have killed me, but I fetched him an old t-shirt and sweatpants from the back room so he could toss his clothes in the washer.

He looked over the outfit with one brow raised. "Are all the clothes in this house on a sliding scale from cozy and horrible to formal and stuffy?"

"Welcome to Fortuna," I said, rolling my eyes.

I made breakfast even after he told me that it was past noon. Breakfast was good at any time, or it would have been if I could taste anything. Hard to say if I under-seasoned or over-seasoned the eggs.

I tried to make Dante useful since he was just taking up space in the narrow kitchen, but as it turned out, he was an idiot. "So how long do you put the bread in this?" he asked as he flicked the handle of the toaster up and down.

There was so much to unpack about his question that I couldn't help but toss my hand up. "I don't know. Until it's done? How toasted do you want your bread?"

"I dunno." Squinting at the toaster like it was some untrustworthy contraption, he twisted the knob over. "This much?"

"Do they have toasters where you're from?"

"Listen, I barely own a microwave," he said as he shoved some bread into the slots. "Appliances are expensive, so I'm not going to bother getting one that serves a single purpose"

"How do you barely own something?"

"Well, it makes a loud popping sound every time I use it. I think it's going to explode one of these days."

Not that I'd ever considered visiting Dante, but I decided then that it would never happen. If Black didn't kill me, Dante was bound to. I moved him to the task of putting dishes in the dishwasher because I didn't think someone could mess that up. He was determined to prove me wrong.

"I don't have one of these either," he said after I resorted every dish he'd placed. "I barely have dishes."

"Do you actually have a house, or is it just some box you found?"

"Hey, I have a house _and_ a shop," he said, crossing his arms. If I hadn't known better, I might have thought he was offended. "I mean, they're the same place, but at least it's my place."

That was more than I could say for myself. With the Holy Knights disbanded, I didn't make much money. Our paychecks used to come out of the Order, and there wasn't much left of that either. I didn't hate living in the old family home, but I'd never felt like I belonged in it. I'd always been a freeloader.

"Is something burning?" Dante asked, frowning at the stove. The only running burner was on medium, cooking ham.

"I don't think so," I said after flipping the ham to make sure it wasn't past browning.

Another few seconds passed as he glanced around. "Really? It smells like-" His eyes snapped to the toaster. "Bread." The knob had been turned all the way over to the highest setting, and as soon as he flicked the spring up, the smoke detector started screaming. "Wow, it's like charcoal," Dante yelled over the ear-stabbing beeps as he placed his hand over his nose and mouth.

With a sigh, I flicked on the fans over the stove. The inhale dragged a few coughs out of me.

"Maybe we should open a window," Dante said.

"Is it really smokey?" I asked. "I don't smell anything."

His brow furrowed. "Really?"

"No." Not the smoke. Not the sizzling ham. Nothing.

Dante took an instant too long to answer. I caught the way his eyes darted from mine in search of an excuse. "Well, you did break your nose last night."

The whirring of the fans claimed the air as he tossed out the charred hunks of bread, and the alarm shut off. I turned the fans off as well before speaking. "Are you really going to do an exorcism?"

"No, that would almost definitely kill you." He didn't look at me, focused on searching the cabinets for dishes. "Exorcisms on partial demons will physically rip them to shreds."

I had to swallow my breath to stop myself from asking why he knew that. "Then I'm possessed?" I asked instead.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" I bit back. My breaths started to feel heavy and sharp.

His hands dropped to the countertop, as though he needed it to hold himself upright. "You're not fitting the usual symptoms."

"Then what are you going to do to fix it!?" Ugly, bubbling anger tore at me from the inside. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I needed someone to blame, someone to hate, someone other than myself. Dante was supposed to yell at me in return. I wanted a fight. His firm, honest answer made my thoughts brew blacker.

"I don't know." As he locked his eyes with mine, I struggled not to look away. "It's not like anything I've ever seen. I'm just not sure. We'll work on figuring it out."

"You're fucking useless!" I snarled, slamming my fist on the counter. The stitches stung with the threat of snapping open.

"I know. It's annoying," he said with a hint of an honest smile. He needed to stop being so damn understanding. He was supposed to crack some stupid joke, so I could have a reason to throw a punch. "But how about we eat, and then go find some demons to kill? I think you need to blow off some steam."

He was right. I hated him for it. Breakfast, or lunch - whatever it was - was awkward. I couldn't drag myself out of the pit of acting like a child throwing a tantrum, so I sat there in stubborn anger, forcing myself to chew and swallow food that could have been wet paper. If it wasn't good, Dante never complained. He stared at the front page of the newspaper until I gave up with a huff. "Can you read that?"

"No, not a word. I don't know Italian." That was bound to be a problem when he was in the Italian section.

As I stood, I flipped the paper over for him before grabbing our plates. "Oh, I know these words," he said, though I don't think that he bothered to read any of it. The dryer finished, and he changed back into his usual nonsense. He really didn't have room to make fun of my clothes.

"Come on, kid," he said like an eager dog wanting a walk. "Let's go find something to kill."

"Alright." The idea did sound appealing, but I glanced down at my outfit and frowned. Everything else was either dirty, torn to bits, or pajamas. "Guess I'll… wear this."

"You look great. I love that 'I'm doing my best' look."

His grin didn't falter at my glare. "Shut up, trench coat cowboy."

He laughed, short but bright. "Hey, I've seen what you usually wear, I don't think you should be throwing around words like that."

I had to put my right arm back in one of my old slings to keep it out of my way. It was just dead weight. "Alright, let's go," I said after holstering Blue Rose.

"Not going to take your, uh?" He made a motion like he was either knocking on a door or revving a motorcycle.

"Red Queen?" I guessed. "She's too heavy to throw around unbalanced. I don't have a Caliburn." I tended to break them after a couple months of use, so the Order stopped handing them out to me.

Dante shook his head. "We need to get you some new weapons. Variety is the spice of life."

Variety sounded like a lot of work to carry around.

"But you're reasonably capable with that gun, so I'll pick up the slack for you," he said as he opened the door. Shouldering him aside, I stepped out in front of him.

"Wow, it really would be too bad if I accidentally shot you," I muttered. "Just too bad. What a shame."

"Hey, don't start helping Black out."

After a good hour of trudging through the snow and dealing with Dante's badgering, we found a few small fry to pick off on the edge of the forest. Dante did his best to be flashy, and I did my best to ignore him, especially when I noticed him watching me. Constantly.

His eyes were burning a hole in my back. I hoped that was more for his sake than mine, or I was going to kick his ass. He could worry about Black taking over, but he didn't need to be worrying about me. I could handle myself.

"Not bad," Dante said as I shot the final straggler into a hissing mess writhing toward death. "But I think your aim would be better if you had a gun that didn't shoot two bullets at once."

With quick jerks of movement, I emptied the shell casings and snapped in a fresh set of bullets, staring him down all the while. When I tried to speak, I found my words sticking and stuttering against me. "I think you would be better-"

"-if I shut my whore mouth. Yeah, we've been over this," he said.

Reholstering Blue Rose took all of my willpower.

"Now that you've got some energy back," he continued as he cleaned his sword on the snow, "do you think you could Trigger? I think it would help your healing."

I tried, tried to feel something of the power I'd had. Triggering was like taking hold of fire that burned through my hand and up into the rest of my body. Now, though, there wasn't a flame in sight. No warmth, no power.

"I think I need Yamato for that," I said. My voice was still shaking for some reason, no matter how hard I tried to clamp down on it.

He clicked his tongue. "Damn, then I guess we should head back."

"Why?" I snapped in a rush of anger. "I'm not injured. You're not my goddamn babysitter."

Something dark and unsettling flashed in his eyes before he could look away from me. "No, but your lips are blue. You're shaking like a leaf, kid."

Holding up my hand, I found my fingers splotched in patches of red and bloodless white. My whole hand trembled like I'd caught some fit.

But I didn't feel cold. I didn't feel…

When he started back, I followed him without arguing and matched my steps to his longer strides and larger footprints. That way I didn't have to drag myself through the snow anymore. He didn't talk much on the way back, or maybe he did. I couldn't focus on anything he said, couldn't focus on anything but taking each step. One after another. By the time we made it back to town, the sun was setting, and I wondered where the day had gone.

"I'd get you some wine to help you warm up, but I think Kyrie would find out somehow and come lecture me," he said as we reached the house. My hand shook so hard that Dante took the key from me to open the door. I wanted to be angry, but I couldn't summon the desire to snap at him, not even when his upbeat tone sounded strained. "You'd better take a warm shower before you get frostbite."

I'd just taken a shower, and I hadn't broken much of a sweat against the demons, but I felt myself walk into the bathroom. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I wondered when I'd gotten a cut on my cheek. I curled my hand around the edge of the sink, feeling pressure against my fingertips but no chill from the stone.

The shower ran with just my hand under the stream for so long that my fingers started to prune, but I couldn't tell what temperature the water was at, no matter how I spun the knobs. In the end, I took steam fogging over the mirror as a sign that it was good enough.

No taste. No smell. Only half my sight. Always half my hearing.

And now my sense of touch was failing me too.

* * *

 **I'm glad Nero is having a good time.**

 **I am also having a good time.**

 **Huge thanks to my reviewers. Hope you enjoyed it. In the next chapter I'll get to the goddamn point.**


	7. Dawn

**No one is surprised.**

* * *

"You take as long in the shower as any woman," Dante said as soon as I stepped out. "I'll be lucky if there's any hot water left." He'd draped himself across the couch, feet dangling over one armrest and his head leaned against the other. I saw him through frays of wet hair and the towel still draped over my head. The usual lazy smirk was back on his face.

"We don't really run out of hot water, and you didn't say you wanted a turn." The more I fluffed my hair dry with the towel, the less I had to look at him, and the less he could look at me. I heard the floor shift under his weight as he got to his feet.

"I did more actual moving around than you, and hey, maybe I wanted to warm up a bit too," he said. "Also I _might_ have accidentally fallen asleep before I took a proper shower last night."

Gross.

He must have heard the noise of disgust I made. "Hey, it was a long trip, and there was all the running around, and I was a little worried you would try to murder me. Don't go turning into Black while I'm bathing, alright? Things would get weird, and I don't think you need that level of stress."

"Shut up," I hissed, tugging the towel down to hide my face completely as he stepped close.

He was probably grinning when he leaned in. "You've got quite a blush going for you."

How he saw that with my face covered, I had no idea. "Go take a shower," I said. "You're gross."

When he stepped past and into the hall, a thought hit me, and my anger faltered. A swell of anxiety rushed in to take its place, and each breath seemed to make thorns stab into my lungs. If Black took over while Dante wasn't there to stop him or talk me out of it, I wasn't sure how long I'd be out. I wasn't sure how far Black could go or where I'd end up. Or if I'd ever wake up at all.

"Hey, Dante." The call fell from my mouth in a rush. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"Yeah?"

My breaths felt stale and useless like the air was void of oxygen. I had to swallow the words threatening to claw up my throat. "Do you want something to change into again?" I asked just to say anything else.

"Nah, my clothes are still on the 'clean enough' side, and all your clothes make me look like someone's dad. I'm not made for slacks or sweatpants. That's dorky even for me."

The thought occurred to me that he wanted me to react to that. I was wearing sweatpants, and the clothes I'd given him weren't mine. I could have turned and snapped at him. That was how things were supposed to go, but the thought slipped from my grasp.

"Dante."

"Am I going to get to shower, or…?"

I pulled the towel from my head so I could see the living room around me - the old photos, the radio, and the gashes on the wall that hadn't been there before Dante fought with Black. From my weak, pained breaths came that damn question again. "If he takes over completely," I said, "if I'm gone, will you kill me?"

At his pause, I turned to find him staring me down, frustration simmering in his eyes. "Nero, we've been over this."

"Don't write me off again. I'm not saying this can't be fixed." Grasping some strength to level my voice, I held his gaze. "Maybe we can get rid of Black. I sure as hell hope we can. But I don't want to be blind and deaf while my body is being used to hurt others. If you ever think I'm gone for good, or he's putting others in danger, I want for you to take me out."

In silence, he watched me, searching for any hint of uncertainty. I had none, and his gaze broke from mine.

"You understand that's still an unfair request to place on someone," he said. His eyes followed the lines along the floor. "Cruel to ask a friend to finish you off."

Though the idea that we were friends was an odd one, I nodded. Other than Kyrie, he was the only person who bothered with me. Maybe that made us friends.

"I guess it wouldn't matter who did it at that point," I said, "but I don't know that many other people could kill me. Just promise me, Dante."

Bowing his head, he breathed a sigh. "If there's nothing left, I'll do what I have to. But only then, kid. I won't give up on you easy." A smirk flashed back to his face as always. "But this line of thinking doesn't get us anywhere, so cheer up. It's no fun if you're moping all the time." He made it sound so simple, but maybe it was for him. He was always grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah, I can only be so chipper with you around," I said.

"That's the spirit!"

As he showered, I stretched out on the couch like he had before. Exhaustion sank into me so quickly that I was closing my eyes one moment and being woken up the next. Dante kept smacking my cheek even after my eyes were open.

"Why?" I drawled.

"You feel like a furnace," he said. "Your face is all rosy."

"What does this have to do with you hitting me?" Though I didn't feel warm, my head was fuzzy, and my vision seemed to sway like I'd downed half a bottle of wine again.

"I couldn't get you to wake up for a minute there," he said with a half-smile. "You were supposed to take a warm shower, not a hot one. Probably overheated yourself. Sweats weren't the best idea."

"First I'm too cold, then I'm too hot," I grumbled, dragging myself upright to make room for him. "There's no winning with you."

When he dropped to the other end of the couch, his pretense of humor vanished. I found another piercing stare cutting into me. This one, I couldn't match. "It's not about me," he said. "Could you tell at all when you were cold? Can you tell now?"

It was clear he already knew the answer, so I saw no point in lying. "No. I don't feel hot. I couldn't tell how warm the shower was. I can still feel pressure, but..." Looking down at my hand, I curled and uncurled it. My skin was splotched with red. Biting hard on the inside of my cheek, I made sure I could still feel pain. It was no worse than a prick of a needle, but I could feel it. At least I still had that much.

I tried to ignore the blood filling my mouth.

"I do have some help coming," Dante said. "I know I'm pretty useless about this whole thing, but my friends are knowledgeable when it comes to all the fun occult stuff. They also have money, so they should be able to use proper transportation to get here sooner. Uh, we'll owe them for that, though."

I already owed Kyrie and maybe Dante - still wasn't sure about that one. With a huff, I dropped my chin into my palm and leaned against the armrest. "I feel like I'll have no money by the end of this."

"Oh yeah, they'll bleed you dry. Don't ask for any extra favors." As we lapsed into silence, his eyes wandered the living room. I knew that he couldn't let the quiet hold for too long, so I waited for the inevitable. "Hey," he said, "do TVs exist here?"

"No, they're a myth in Fortuna. A legend, like Sparda."

His shoulders bounced with his snickering. "See, you're more fun like this."

He was too stupid to even feel insulted. Rolling my eyes, I waved my hand toward the empty TV stand. "We had a TV, but it broke a little while back." I felt no need to mention that I'd been the one to break it while trying to use my Bringer to grab something from across the room. Kyrie had been quick to add a "No using weird arms in the house" rule after that. "We still have a radio, though," I said.

He cocked a brow. "A radio? What is this, the forties? How many stations could an island even have? Three? Four?"

If I told him that there were five and only two running this time of day, he was going to laugh, and I was not going to give him the satisfaction. "Do you need to be constantly entertained or something?" I snapped.

Like he'd been waiting for the question, his eyes brightened with his grin. "Yes! Come on, kid, there's got to be something we can do besides sit around and mope. I'm your guest. You're supposed to entertain me."

"I didn't invite you, remember?" He would not get away with pulling that card, and if he kept trying, he would be sleeping outside. "If you're that bored, read a book or play some solitaire."

"Cards?" He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin. "Yeah, that'll work. Do you know how to play poker?"

"I am not gambling against you." And I had no idea how to play poker.

"No fun," he sighed, his hand dropping to press over his heart like I'd wounded him. "That's most of the good card games. Well, where are the cards? We can find some game for your innocent sensibilities."

He was bound to keep complaining if I didn't tell him. This must have been what babysitting a little kid was like. "I'm not agreeing to play, but they're in the ottoman," I said, nodding toward the long cushion sitting against the wall. If he tried to get me to play go fish, I would shove the cards down his throat.

Hopping to his feet, he strode over to the ottoman and popped the lid up. "Oh, board games," he said. "You were holding out on me. I play a mean game of Sorry."

Despite his usual obnoxious grin, I found myself smirking in return. "The name is fitting because that's exactly how I'd feel if I let myself play a board game with you. Let me guess, you play red."

"Naturally. And yourself? Blue?"

"Green."

Kyrie could never settle between red or yellow, and Credo stuck to blue. The three of us had played every game in the ottoman to death, long past the age we should have stopped, but the boxes must have all been covered in dust by now. Since the Savior incident, Kyrie hadn't wanted to even open the ottoman because- Shit.

I jolted upright, internally begging for Dante to just grab a pack of cards and shut the thing for good. When he spoke again, though, his voice curled with mischief.

"Is this a photo album?" He pulled out the black one - of course it was the damn black one - and turned it over in his hands. A wry smile pulled at his lips.

"Put it back," I hissed.

The bastard flipped it open. "Why? Are there baby pictures of you in here? I bet you were cute."

"No one has baby pictures of me, asshole." The floor seemed to tilt under my feet, but I stalked over and snatched at the book, only to catch Dante's foot against my gut. With a light shove, he pinned me against the wall. "There are fucking boundaries," I snarled as I latched my hand around his ankle and tried to drag his gross foot off of me.

"Wait," he said. He wasn't smiling anymore. "Why are there so many pictures of you in a hospital?"

Leaning back, I knocked my skull against the wall. "Dante, do you really think we need to talk about my childhood? I will play a dumb board game to entertain you."

Though he dropped his foot, he kept flipping through the pages. "I would get sick here or there," he said. "But we always got over it fast."

My brow puzzled at the use of "we" but he continued, not paying any mind to the odd word choice.

"I guess I thought demon blood kept us hardier than that. How long were you in the hospital? You looked like death, kid."

For someone who was so quick to change the topic of conversation when he didn't like it, Dante never knew when to let something go. With a hiss of a sigh, I rubbed my hand across my face. I guessed none of it mattered. The memories weren't traumatizing or anything. I just didn't want Dante giving me that same pitying look I'd faced for so long. Oh, woe is Nero, the tiny weak kid stuck in the hospital. It was fucking annoying. My only consolation was that Dante looked more confused than anything. He may have been too much of a sadist to feel pity.

"I was just really sick," I confessed with a shrug. "My immune system was shit, so every cold turned into a problem. I was in and out of the hospital for a long time. Got so sick at one point that the doctors gave an ETA for my death." I gave an irritable snort. I hadn't learned about that bit 'til years later. Not that they would have told me as a kid that I had a few hours left to live, but I'd been so out of it at the time that I couldn't make sense of a single word anyone said to me. Consciousness came in short bouts of blurred images and garbled sounds.

"I got over it somehow," I continued. "Woke up. People talked about how it was a miracle for weeks, but that was the same time I lost hearing in my right ear. The fever or infection or something took it. I hated going to the hospital, though. Glad I never really had to go back after that, or I would have lost it."

Dante's eyes still burned with curiosity, but they tore from the page in the album to catch hold of mine. "Is that when your eyes changed color too?" he asked.

"What?" I couldn't help but shrink back under his stare. "What are you talking about?"

Flipping the book around, he pointed to one of the pictures of me trying to hide behind Credo to avoid the camera while Kyrie tried to drag me into view. "They're brown," Dante said.

"Probably the lighting," I muttered. But he was right. They did look dark.

He flipped to another photo of me pouting about something - probably the camera. Credo and Kyrie's parents were obsessive about photos when they first took me in, and I'd never known how to deal with the attention.

In the close-up, it was clear that my eyes were brown like wet sand with flecks of green around the outside. "Weird," was all I could think to say.

Dante flipped forward two pages to the pictures of the party they'd thrown for me after I got out of the hospital. I was still on so many drugs at the time that I'd had no idea what was going on and looked half-asleep in every picture.

And in every picture, my eyes were blue.

"Yeah, that was right when I got out of the hospital," I said, rubbing my eyes to hold back a growing headache. "I don't know, Dante. Maybe the albinism didn't reach my eyes until then." That was not how albinism worked at all, but I had no other answer for him. The drugs could have done something weird. I'd been on all sorts.

"And you stopped being sick after that?" Dante pressed.

"Yeah, mostly." I had no idea what he was getting at. All of that had happened so long ago. A gentle but irritating ringing started up in my right ear like a buzzing insect. I dug the heel of my hand against my ear to try stifling it.

"I didn't get my Trigger until I got stabbed like three damn times," I said, "and my arm only changed when Kyrie was about to get hurt, so maybe it was something like that - my demon side kicking in to save me."

Dante seemed hesitant to speak, a war flashing behind his eyes as they darted back and forth through his thoughts. "But you weren't the one in danger when your arm changed."

"Not really, but I was about out of my mind with worry," I sighed. My head was killing me. Every pulse of my heart was like an ice pick to the skull. "I don't remember it too clearly. There were all these demons, and that voice was bitching at me." The words seemed to slip aimlessly from my mouth as I fought to think against the blinding pain in my head. "My arm did get damaged during that, and it changed afterward, so that's…" I couldn't remember what I was going to say, so I just let it go.

"Voice?" Dante echoed. He sounded far away.

The ringing was getting louder. "Power," I murmured, recalling the words I'd heard. "Need more power." Too loud to be thoughts, too soundless to be real. I'd heard it from nowhere yet all around me. Just like with Black.

The ringing was deafening.

I caught a glimpse of Dante reaching for me as the world melted. He looked lost, stricken. If Dante was scared, I should have been too, but I couldn't feel much of anything. I must have been falling.

As before, Black's voice followed me into the abyss.

"You've said too much, boy. I warned you."

* * *

I felt less like I'd woken up and more like I'd been snapped back into reality. I'd already been sitting up when I came to. My eyes had been open before I could see. The only light came from my arm and a scattering of moonlight, but I'd come to know the Order library well enough that I didn't need to look around.

Black had put me back in the same seat at the same table. The record book was still open in front of me. Again, though, it was different. In the pale blue glow from my arm, I read the new line of the flowing script. "Ask if you must. This will be your one and only chance."

"Ask what? Who?" I murmured, rubbing my hand across my face to ease the pounding in my head. When that didn't help, I rested my hand over my eyes like Dante had done before. After a few seconds, I sighed and looked back to the book. "Where's Dante?"

The claws of my right hand curled around a pen lying beside it. I still couldn't feel the arm, still couldn't bring myself to move it, yet it drifted as though pulled by a string and dashed out an answer on the page. "I used Yamato to get away from Dante, though I'm sure he's on his way."

I'd lost my mind for sure. "Yamato? How? What!?" I barked.

The Bringer - or Black, I guessed - swatted the end of the pen against the paper a few times. I must have been annoying him. Good.

"It is of little consequence," he wrote, "but you could hardly use a portion of Yamato's potential. Are you going to ask anything of import, or should I end this farce early?" He really didn't have a right to complain about anything I said when he wasted so much time with his haughty words and calligraphy.

"How about you get the fuck out of my body?" I said as I reached over to snatch the pen away. My left hand froze before I could touch the pen. A chill like poison ran from my shoulder to my fingertips, and then I felt nothing. I could only watch as my arm moved back to rest on the table.

"It is as much mine as it is yours," Black wrote while my heart seemed to tear itself to pieces in its frantic beating. "Moreso, in fact."

"Bullshit." My voice came out in a whisper, empty of the anger I was struggling to maintain. Fear was eating me up inside.

"You would have died on several occasions if not for me," Black wrote. "You owe me your life. I allowed you to continue as you wished for some time, but I've come to collect. Pay your dues with dignity, or I will continue to make this hard on you."

"Fuck you." Though my voice cracked, I'd at least found it again. "What have you ever done but almost gotten me killed? I never asked for anything from you."

"You did," he wrote. "Anything to save her, you said. I let you save her. I let you save this cursed island too."

"You're lying," I hissed. "You're fucking lying."

He tapped the pen's tip to the paper a few times before picking up another line. "Had it not been for my aid, you would not have lived past childhood. Your demon blood was diluted, and your body is weak. A fever was enough to break you. I lent you my power for years without interference. Believe what you wish. That is the truth."

"Like hell." I wouldn't believe a word of it. I refused. "Why do you even need my body if it's so weak, you sick bastard?"

"Weak or not, it is my body as much as it is yours," he wrote again. "It would be buried if I hadn't kept you alive as a child and summoned Yamato so that you could partially Trigger. Not to mention the many other times you needed my power to survive." As he reached the end of the page, the way my hands flipped to the next made me think I could have been looking through someone else's eyes, watching their movements instead of my own.

"This is my body," I said. "I was born with it, and I'm pretty sure you had nothing to do with that. I don't owe you anything."

He paused before answering. "It makes no difference what you think. Do you have anything else to ask?"

Of course. I had a thousand questions, but none of them mattered. At this rate, nothing would change. "Is this entertaining to you or something?" I asked. "Why are we talking like this?"

The scribbling of his pen started up again, the sound drilling into my head. "Entertaining? No. Think of it as a final favor." He'd never done me a damn favor. "I would have preferred to talk in a different way, but you do not hear my voice at most times. When you do, it seems to trouble you. I thought it reasonable to give you some answers because you were so confused. Had Dante not interfered, I might have given you more time, but I knew he would be trouble, so I rushed things."

I couldn't see why Dante's presence mattered. "Dante didn't do anything," I said, more matter-of-fact than spiteful. I didn't feel any anger toward him. At least he'd tried.

"No, he did not."

That was all Black wrote, and I stared at the paper in silence until Black began to twirl the pen between his fingers. Over and under in a practiced rhythm. I'd never been able to do that before.

"What are you, exactly?" I asked.

The pen flicked back into his grip. "I am a demon," he wrote. "I am of Sparda's blood, like you, but you hold a fraction of what I possess. I am the source of your power."

"Pretty sure we have the same blood, but okay."

The pen sat in one spot on the page for a tense moment, leaving a small blot when he picked it up again. "I had my own form years ago," he wrote.

I clicked my tongue, my lip twitching toward a snarl. He'd had his own body. He shouldn't have needed mine, the bastard. "Did someone steal it?" I asked with a growl. "That sounds like it would suck, you know."

Another pause. "When Dante arrives, I'll be ending this. If you have any other pressing questions, I suggest you ask them."

"Whatever your goal is, you're not getting away with it," I spat. "This is my body, and I'll fight you with whatever's left of me. Even if I can't, Dante will find a way to get rid of you, or he'll kill us both."

"You would die either way," he wrote.

I took a deep breath just to feel air in my lungs, unsure how many more times I'd be able to. Somewhere behind the fallen walls around me was a crash of footsteps that made dust fall from what was left of the ceiling.

"Then at least we'll go to hell together, Black," I said.

The glow of my arm dimmed as he wrote in broader, sweeping strokes. I had to squint to read.

"Vergil. I would say it's nice to meet you, but I've known you for so long, and it would be more accurate to say goodnight, Nero."

A cloud must have passed over the moon because it was so dark, and with each blink, the light faded further. When I rushed to stand, my arms helped to push me up, but I couldn't feel the table against my palms. The same sickening cold bled into my legs.

A crash rattled the floor under my feet, and I turned to find Dante leaning against a broken door frame, gasping for breath. He could have been a shadow, just a vague outline of features to my worsening eye. "Kid!" he called between gulps of air. "Nero, that you?" He wasn't standing more than a few paces away, but he sounded like he could have been far beyond my sight, a distant echo.

Ringing swelled in both my ears.

"I'm sorry," I tried to say. I couldn't hear my own voice. Black drowned me out again.

"Pay your debt in silence, boy."

* * *

 **Goodnight, Nero.**


	8. Morning

**I said goodnight, Nero. Go to bed.**

* * *

I should have known.

I should have.

Should have caught the signs sooner.

Should have just sensed that it was him.

Should have been able to see it in the way Nero's eyes changed.

But the whole idea was so absurd that it had never crossed my mind.

If I'd realized sooner, I could have done something. I didn't know what, but something. This was my fault, yet the kid apologized to me in a weak, pained voice before his eyes took on that icy glare once again.

I'd never expected to hear a genuine apology from Nero. He wasn't the type, and he had nothing to feel sorry for. I needed to get him back so I could tell him as much and poke fun at him for being so dramatic. First, though, I had to deal with whatever the hell was going on.

"Vergil," I said. More a statement than a greeting, my tone was laced with venom. Rage blurred the edges of my vision. "What is this? What are you doing?"

Yamato flashed into one hand as he tried to brush the bangs from his eyes with the other. They fell right back into place, and he sighed. "Dante, there's no need for you to involve yourself in this. There's nothing you can do. It's over now."

The voice was still Nero's, yet it sounded nothing like him. The words were too thin, too disinterested. I should have recognized that tone as Vergil's from the first moment I'd heard him speak.

"All this running around you're making me do is getting old," I said, pulling Rebellion from my back. "You're not getting past me again. If you're involved, then I'm involved, and you're going to tell me what's going on."

In the moonlight, his eyes seemed to glow with their growing hatred. "I will tell you nothing," he spat. "All you've done is try to get in my way. That's the reason I was trying to avoid you all this time, but you stick like a burr. I'm finished with you."

I'd learned his trick back at the house - that damn warp he used with Yamato. The moment I'd seen him take over Nero, he'd summoned Yamato. We didn't have the fight I was expecting there. I'd prepared for an attack as he tossed out a summon sword - one I'd actually managed to dodge - but that must have been his intent because it flew past me and into the window behind me. While the glass was still falling, he snapped outside in the sword's place.

That must have been how he'd escaped me the first time too because, by the time I made it outside, he was out of sight. Just like before.

My only advantage was that him coming to the crumbling structure at the island's edge had stuck him in a corner, and while I couldn't understand his reasoning, I would not let him get past me again. If he got off the island, he could have been gone for good.

He darted out of my path before I moved, my swing coming miles late, clashing against the chair he shoved into his place. The wood shattered into splinters. I knew that I couldn't land anything too damaging without harming the kid, but he would have to take a few hits for the sake of slowing Vergil down.

This round was different. Vergil had gained more balance and control, stepping back from every swing with ease. The bastard was toying with me.

He hopped back onto the table, tossing out a slash from Yamato that turned into a shockwave. I had to dodge, and he knew it. Jumping back down from the table, he kicked it up on its side before booting the whole damn thing toward me. A quick swing of Rebellion split it in two before it could reach me, but that left my guard wide open when he appeared in the gap behind the table.

Again, I had to dodge. I hated playing defense, but it was that or have Yamato through my neck. With a flick of his wrist, he caught his attack against my shoulder instead. The cold metal felt red-hot as it ate through muscle without resistance. As I stumbled out of range, I gripped my right arm with my left and crushed it to my side. I had to make sure the wound could stitch back together against the weight of my sword.

"You're holding back," Vergil said as I regained my stance. My breaths were harsh, each one tearing through me. He remained still, quiet, Yamato down at his side. "I have complete control now, so I won't be as useless as before. If you aim to harm me, you have to be prepared to harm the boy's form." With a sweep of the arm he hadn't been able to move before, he gestured to himself.

My attempt at a quip came out as a snarl. "I'm just warming up. Don't think I'm not ready to put you down."

"You're not. You still see him. Either that or your age is catching up to you. Those swings were too slow for any real damage. You don't wish to harm him."

The air blurred with heat around me, my trigger nipping at my heels. "Stand still and we'll test that," I said through a guttural growl.

"I would have expected you to be happier to see me." His head tilted like he was confused about my anger. "You needn't make this troublesome. I won't be raising any more towers. You can let me go, and that will be the end of it. I had only attacked you before because I didn't want you interfering with years of work, but we can be done fighting for now."

Under different circumstances, I would have been happy to see him. Cautious but optimistic. Vergil was still Vergil, and I was never going to throw my arms around someone who'd stabbed me more times than I could count. But of course, I could never meet my brother under normal circumstances. There was always a catch, and this time, it was Nero's life. I could feel nothing but contempt for Vergil at the knowledge of what he'd put the kid through, of what he was doing even now.

"You are not leaving here," I said. "You already had your chance. You don't get another one by stealing someone else's life. Let the kid go."

His expression was still the same, his tone calm. "Impossible."

I froze, fury licking at my insides again. My eyes must have been a bleeding red. "What?"

"Either you let me live, or he and I both die. There is no alternative. If I were to be separated from the boy, it would kill him."

"You're lying!" He had to be. I could not accept that. Exorcisms rarely killed the host, even if they did damage, but this wasn't a normal possession. Vergil didn't have that power. At least, he wasn't supposed to, and if he'd been part of the kid since childhood… I didn't know. I didn't fucking know what was going on.

Vergil must have seen my mind tearing itself apart because he caught my attention with a softer, lilting tone. "Would you have cared had you not known the boy? If I'd taken over some stranger? Would you have accepted it then?"

I felt like he'd cut a power cord in my head, my thoughts short-circuiting. Anger melted away as horror crept up in its place. The answer should have been so simple, but I couldn't bring myself to think it.

"It still would have been wrong," I said. "But there's no point in toying with hypotheticals. You're messing with the kid's life, and I promised him I'd stop you." I grabbed onto that, something solid, something real. I'd told the kid that I would fix this, so I would. Steeling my gaze, I reaffirmed my grip on Rebellion. "Besides, isn't this always how things end with us? There's no point in putting it off."

"Very well," he said with a frown. "If we must." In a blink, dozens of summon swords appeared at his back, crystalline blue shining brighter than the moon.

Well, fuck. The kid couldn't do that. Nero's abilities must not have limited Vergil, just like with the warping. He was going to be as much of a pain in the ass as before. As his empty hand drifted up to direct the swords my way, I made a quick grab for Ebony and Ivory instead. If I had to dodge, a bulky sword didn't help much.

Vergil blinked, wide eyes turning to his raised hand just as its fingers flicked forward. The tips of the phantom blades dipped and shot into a new target - his back. "Kid, don't!" I yelled much too late. The swords cut through him so easily, like they could have been as incorporeal as they appeared. My heart must have been ripped from my chest for the gaping, empty pain left between my lungs. The kid was interfering again, all-too-willing to harm himself if it meant stopping Vergil. Maybe he had more guts than I did, but I couldn't stand there and let him kill himself.

Vergil staggered, blood pouring from his mouth as soon as he opened it. The same red that dripped from his chin also burned in his eyes. I tried to step forward to help him, but Yamato came up between us, trembling along with his arm.

"Enough, boy," he hacked before spitting away a mouthful of blood. "You've done enough fighting." The human hand seemed to writhe, twitching and seizing until the fingers came together in a snap, and the crystal swords shattered into nothing.

My mind roared with the need to do something, anything. I couldn't just stand there. That much damage could have killed the kid, especially if his healing wasn't up to par yet. I should have brought some damn vital stars with me. Even if it healed Vergil too, it was worth keeping the kid alive.

But with another rattling breath, Vergil made the air buzz with a demonic power beyond what I'd ever felt from Nero. The air felt so thin that I couldn't seem to find any to breathe. Blue lights sparked and crackled around Vergil, and in a flash, he Triggered. Not Nero's Trigger, but his own. His body transformed into a true visage of that phantasmal image that used to follow Nero's movements. Curved horns. Empty eyes. All that remained the same was his arm.

"Hell," I hissed, taking a slow step back. Part of me was glad that he would heal, but the rest of me was wondering how Vergil could have possibly retained that much of his power. "You're full of tricks, aren't you? We really going to do this?" I let myself slip toward the edges of my own Trigger, the air crackling and smoking as the intoxicating pulse of power flowed through my veins.

He flinched like I'd already attacked him. His left hand shot to his head, and the Trigger vanished with a flash of blinding blue. "No!" one of them roared, his eyes shut against some new pain. He clutched his head so tightly that I worried he might crack his own skull.

"Kid?" I called, wanting for it to be possible. He wasn't gone yet. I could still get him back, and as long as he was fighting, I knew that for sure. If I lost sight of him completely, well, I just didn't know then. I wouldn't consider it unless things got that far.

The left hand fell, but the right took its place, blood staining his hair where its claws sank into his scalp. "Enough!" commanded a voice that could have only been Vergil.

"It's not your body or mind," I said, forcing myself to sound firm instead of as desperate as I felt. "That kid is stubborn as anything. You can't control him, Vergil. Let him go."

"It's not that simple." One eye opened, wavering with pain as he looked at me. "There is no letting go." He breathed a staggered sigh before letting his hand and Yamato slip to his side. "You are making things worse. I'm done here."

Another goddamned summon sword whizzed by, through the cracks in the wall. "Don't you dare!" I yelled at no one. He was gone again. "I am getting so sick of this!"

My only advantage was that he'd been weakened, and I knew he couldn't warp as far or as often in that condition. That might have worked out in my favor had I not been stuck in that damn obstacle course of a building. If I broke the wrong wall, the place was bound to come down on top of me, so I was forced to scramble back out the way I came.

"How did he even get in here when he could only use one arm?" I grumbled before taking a running leap from the top of the wall to the bridge. After hitting the ground with a roll to avoid having to heal some snapped legs, I popped upright and scanned for any sign of Vergil or Nero.

Nothing. He'd already made it all the way down the bridge and escaped my line of sight into the forest. "Teleporting is unfair and now banned," I said to the frosty night air. Even right beside the ocean, I could watch my breath appear in small bursts of mist. Fortuna weather must have been designed to be difficult. That was bound to happen when you lived right above a giant Hellgate.

I set off again at a sprint, back down the bridge I'd traversed a few minutes before. The forest wasn't as quiet as the shore. In every direction, I could hear rattled growls and the scrabbling of claws through leaves. The kid was right about them having a demon problem. The air was so heavy with the sickly scent of their blood that I had to cover my nose with my sleeve. Aimless, I continued forward until I found a swarm of corpses alongside some downed trees. Looked like the oversized lizard bastards. Most of them only had one wound, but that one wound had split them in half. Limbs and heads were all in different places, and thick globs of their blood were sprayed everywhere.

"A bit much, Vergil," I muttered as I held my hand up flat. Closing one eye and angling my hand like the cuts, I tried to judge the direction of his attacks. He hadn't done much moving around, no showing off; all the attacks came from the same spot. He'd been facing about the same direction as I was by the looks of it, so I took off straight ahead once again. Back toward the town.

If he went to the docks and hijacked a boat somehow- Actually, I wasn't sure Vergil knew how to use a boat. I hoped not. Otherwise, I was certain he'd try to escape, and if Nero managed to wrestle control back while they were in the middle of the ocean, it wouldn't end well. That was the only reason I could think of as to why he hadn't tried leaving sooner.

Fortuna was dead past 9 P.M. which was for the best but also weird. My city was always awake and always a racket. Neon signs buzzed, drunks stumbled around, and someone always drove by with their stereo's bass so loud that it shook the whole block. Beyond a couple lit signs, Fortuna was silent and empty. No sign of life. No sign of Vergil. The only sound was my boots against the concrete, my pace slow. I'd lost him for good. Running would get me nowhere.

If he tried to use any overwhelming attacks nearby, I would be able to find him. His power was too familiar not to notice, and it seemed to resonate with mine, making my Trigger hum at the back of my mind.

That was my only hope because the silent streets had nothing for me.

Or, it was better when they had nothing. A sigh broke from me as I heard the unmistakable stomp of high-heeled boots against the pavement. Two sets of steps too. Not only had Lady arrived early, but she'd brought Trish.

"Dante!" Lady barked as soon as she stepped into view. Her voice echoed along the tunnel of buildings surrounding us. "There you are. No one was at that house you told me to go to, and the window was broken when I got there. That wasn't me."

As she stormed down the street toward me with Trish at her side, I settled a calm smirk on my face and stepped into the light of an old-fashioned street lamp. "Evening," I said. "What are two fine young ladies such as yourselves doing out at a time like this?"

"I heard you were having some troubles with your…" Trish chewed on the idea, drawing the word out until she could find the right way to finish it. "Friend," she decided. "I'd be much more interested to know what you're doing out so late."

Right, that was the question - how much to tell them. "I'm just enjoying all this exciting Fortuna nightlife," I said to put off explaining that much longer. Either my mask of a smile or my sing-song tone weren't holding up as well as I wanted because Trish's eyes turned sharp with questions.

When they reached me, Lady slung a duffel bag down from off her shoulder, tossing it to my feet. "You owe me," she said.

"Don't I always?"

"Yes. Now, what's going on? You're acting weird."

"Ah." I rubbed the back of my neck. "That obvious?"

Crossing her arms, Lady leaned forward to glare at me over the rims of her sunglasses. "Yes," she said. "You're not good at faking. You called me out here, so now you have to tell me what's really happening. Where's the glow stick?"

Lies wouldn't do me much good, not with how well they could sniff them out, but the whole truth was a far worse option. No matter what I told them, it wasn't going to go over well. I hissed air between my teeth before speaking. "So the kid's been...kind-of possessed, and I'm looking for him-"

Lady whipped off her glasses. "You lost the possessed kid!?"

"Well! He can...teleport. You know how Yamato is. Hard to keep track of him."

"How is he 'sort-of' possessed?" Trish asked. "Possessed is something you either are or aren't."

Great, they were going to needle the truth out of me one way or another. If it had just been one of them, I might have been able to handle it, but the same tricks didn't work on both. "I don't know what it is," I admitted. "Closer to possession than anything else, so that's what I'm calling it right now."

"I thought you said it was a problem with Yamato," Lady said.

"I thought it was. I mean, Yamato probably isn't helping the situation."

"Wait!" Lady threw her hands up. "Are you telling me some demon is controlling the kid _and_ has control of Yamato? The demon sword that can cut through anything? The sword that can open Fortuna's giant Hellgate?"

"Yes," I said, the word dragging from my mouth.

"And you lost him!?"

"Well…" My hands flailed in a useless attempt to stall for ideas. In the end, I gave up and gave the lamest distraction I could. "Are you going to help me find him or not?"

"Is he going to kill civilians?" Trish asked.

"What? No, it's not like that." Probably. Hopefully. As far as I knew, Vergil stuck to killing humans who hassled him or were in his way, so as long as no one in Fortuna decided to get chummy with Nero all the sudden, it would be fine.

"Then we have time to talk," she said, a scolding tone leaking into her fake calm. "Explain, Dante. The full truth this time."

Trish was too damn perceptive, and judging by Lady's tapping foot, she was liable to shoot me somewhere it hurt if I didn't start talking. "Alright," I sighed, letting the weariness sink into my face and shoulders. "But if I'm going to tell you, let's walk in the meantime. The residents around here seem like the types to listen in on things that don't concern them." More accurately, I didn't want them hearing anything too damning about the kid when they were already so wary of him. If they found out about this alongside their other prejudices, things would get even worse for him once I'd fixed this whole mess.

They agreed with nods, and I shouldered the duffel bag before starting down the street. They followed on either side of me, listening to my story from the top. "You're right," Trish said as I explained the symptoms Nero had. "That isn't a normal possession."

"Yeah, we're getting there."

Lady's eyes narrowed further and further the more I explained. I had a feeling she had an inkling of the truth long before I'd discerned it. The moment I said, "So, Nero started saying how he'd heard this voice in his head talking to him about power," Lady's eyes flew wide. Her hand locked into the collar of my jacket, yanking me to the side.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" she screeched. "It _is_ that damn brother of yours, isn't it?"

"I was wondering that myself," Trish said.

Scrubbing my hand against my face, I tried to shake off the feeling that I was maybe just as stupid as they thought I was. "How does everyone figure this out before me?"

"I mostly saw it in your face," Trish said. "You get this look in your eyes when you talk about him like you're somewhere far off, and you're not too happy about it."

"How is he back?" Lady fumed. "Again?"

I didn't have that answer, but as I finished telling them of my encounter with him, Trish hummed, her pace slowing as her eyes closed. Lady and I stopped and turned back toward her. "He's a half-demon," she said at length. "Nero has some Sparda blood in him - hard to say how much - but he's mostly human. After what happened on Mallet Island, if there were anything left of Vergil, it wouldn't have been much. He didn't have a body, but maybe some last piece of his power or-" A fledgling smile flickered on her lips. "-spirit saw the kid like the only light in an endless darkness - a source of power."

"So, what? He latched onto the kid like some leech?" Lady asked, her lip curled in disgust. Vergil was bound to be furious if he heard himself called something like that, but I could believe it. Besides, leech was the least of the names I had running through my head for him.

"Something like that," Trish said as her eyes flicked open. "He found a host to lay dormant in until he could regain his power. I suppose their relationship must have been somewhat symbiotic. Nero used Vergil's power to survive, and Vergil used Nero's demonic blood and body to stabilize himself."

I found my face mirroring Lady's. "Let's avoid anything along the lines of Vergil 'using' Nero's body," I said.

With a scoff, Trish took to examining her nails, a good sign that she didn't want to look at me. "Maybe you just need to get your mind out of the gutter, but alright. I would assume that Vergil awoke in tandem with the boy's demonic arm. Since the arm and Nero's demonic powers have been active, I believe Vergil has been steadily gaining control. So, yes, it's not possession. An exorcism would not work. If my theory is correct, and I do believe it is, then this is rather like the case of a changeling demon."

I jerked upright as though a noose around my neck had gone taut. I'd taken two jobs with changelings before. The first time I hadn't known better. The second time I'd thought I could find a solution where there was none. Changelings latched onto human children from a young age and smothered their minds until all that was left was a demon wearing the child's form as a skin. At that point, there was no going back. The only way to get rid of the demon was to kill them both.

"No," I breathed, blood roaring in my ears. "This isn't the same. Vergil isn't like that." Vergil was Vergil, and he was a bastard, but he was not a full-blooded demon, and Nero was not human. "We must have some options."

Trish's silence was deafening. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. "Do you want an honest answer?"

No, not if the answer was what I feared.

"Yes," I said.

She breathed a sigh, her gaze drifting toward the sky. Fortuna's night sky was so covered in stars that it looked like glitter on a kid's arts and crafts project. Beautiful, endless stars to the ends of the earth. I found myself watching them too as her words tore me to pieces.

"You said Vergil mentioned that separating them was impossible, that there was no letting go. I believe he was telling the truth."

No. I refused. There had to be a way. Vergil didn't know what he was talking about, and neither did she.

"If he's been with Nero since childhood, while Nero was still developing," she continued, "it's unlikely that there's a way to extricate one or the other at this point. They've been together for too long. Nero's soul grew into Vergil's, so they're linked, twisted together. Either we kill them both, or we let Vergil have Nero's body. But truthfully, having Nero trapped like that may be a fate worse than death."

A dark, mocking laugh tore up my throat as I let my eyes fall against my hand to block out the stars. "I told him… told Nero I'd kill him if it came to that. I promised him." But no part of me had accepted that as a possibility. Even now, I wouldn't. "He's not gone yet," I said. "Besides, I'm tired of killing Vergil. I think I've done that enough." Breathing a sigh, I forced my usual smile back onto my face. "So my brother's an ass, and life's unfair. What else is new?"

Neither of them smiled back, their brows drawn. "Guess our only option is to search for a while," Lady said, settling her own comfortable mask of anger over her face. "Maybe if we find him, we can drag some more answers out of him."

Or maybe we'd find Nero in his place. The kid was tough. I still had faith that he'd find a way to fight back, to regain control.

I didn't want to think about what that would mean for Vergil.

The island was too big for a proper search by three people. Splitting up would have been a better choice, but for some reason, none of us brought up the idea. We never wandered farther than each other's line of sight, and we found nothing but a few straggler demons. Fortuna was far too quiet, far too empty. Nothing to distract me from my thoughts. The demons died too quickly to be any help. I asked if we should check the forest because I wanted more to fight, but Trish shook her head. "You're in no condition to go running into hordes. You look dead on your feet. I'd like some sleep too. The jetlag was awful."

I guessed I felt tired. Truthfully, I didn't feel much of anything. Just empty and distant, like I wasn't part of myself.

"The sun will be coming up soon," Trish continued, looking to the horizon. "Maybe we should get some sleep."

The edge of the sky was softening to a deep blue like the kid's arm when he slept. I'd done nothing for him since sundown. Nothing but watch him suffer and be taken over by my own damn brother. I was useless as I'd ever been at saving people.

"Is it a good idea to sleep and leave the murderer on the loose during the day when there are people out?" Lady asked.

"We won't be much use without sleep," Trish said. "We can snag a couple hours. If Vergil has behaved himself around people for this long, I don't know that things will change, at least not right away." I wasn't sure that she needed sleep, so she must have been suggesting it more for our sake, and I couldn't find a good enough reason to argue.

Lady's mind was clearer than mine. "You don't think he'll try to take the ferry or something to get out of here?" she asked.

"The ferry does not run today," Trish said with a smile. No matter how hard I wracked my brain, I couldn't think of whether she was telling the truth. Believing her was easier.

"Alright," I said. "Do you two have somewhere to stay? I'd feel weird inviting you to someone else's house."

The usual cruel smirk Lady wore to mock me was almost comforting. "Who do you think you're talking to? We can afford a hotel."

"Coming out of my bank account, no doubt." I could handle the routine. The overdramatic sigh came easily.

"Of course. You're the one who dragged us out here."

"I thought you came because you care about me."

She shrugged. "Only because if you get killed, there's no one to pay me back."

The comfort of the act fell away as we separated. They went to whatever ritzy, overpriced hotel they'd picked, and I followed the now-familiar route to the house. Starting back at the house may have been my best option. Back where everything began. Vergil or Nero could have left something I'd missed. They'd shared the place for years, even if Nero didn't realize it, so old memories were bound to be stashed away somewhere. If I couldn't find anything there, though, I could try the crumbling Order building again. Vergil kept returning there, even when he knew I'd follow. He must have had some reason.

When I reached the house, I found the front door open. I'd left in such a rush that I couldn't remember if I'd closed it. My manners weren't the best, but I was pretty sure I'd bothered to slam it shut on the way out.

Inside, the living room light was still on. My cautious footsteps did me little good when the floor creaked like a wailing banshee every other step. As I cursed under my breath, a soft, haggard voice called from one of the rooms. "Who's there?"

"Nero?" I dared to hope. My heart beat in such a furious rhythm that my entire body shook as I rushed into his room.

He sat propped up in the corner, legs and arms resting in front of him. He looked like a doll forgotten there, and his eyes stared right through my chest. "Dante?" His brow furrowed, but his eyes still didn't find focus, sweeping the room as though in search of me.

"It's me, kid," I said as I strode forward, kneeling in front of him. "Been looking for you. All that wandering around, and you've been here the whole time." He must have arrived sometime after Lady left, but that had been hours ago. It was hard to say how long he'd sat there.

"Didn't bring myself here," he murmured. Those pale blue eyes still didn't focus, still looked through me, not even when his human hand drifted up and brushed my jaw. My chest ached like he'd twisted a knife into it.

"Can you see me?" I asked.

"I can't see anything. I can barely hear. You sound so far away." Blind, his hand came to rest against the side of my face. "Strange that you're right here." When his hand slipped, I had to catch it to stop it from slamming back into the floor. It was as though he'd lost the strength to hold up his arm and just let go. Despite the exhaustion and pain in his dulled eyes, he forced a smile. "I kept fighting like you said. It hurt like hell, and I don't think I did much to him, but when he gave me control back, I could hardly move. Everything's so numb. But you're here, I think. That's good. For when he comes back."

If Vergil had taken control again at that moment, he could have gutted me in an instant, but I didn't care about the risk. I led the kid's head to rest on my shoulder like when I'd carried him on my back. "Yeah, kid," I murmured. "I'm here. I'll take care of this."

Somehow, I would, even if I had to use that last resort.

"Not sure how much of me is left," he said. His voice was so thin that I wouldn't have been able to hear him had he not been right next to me. "I'm so tired, so damn weak. But I won't… I won't let him hurt anyone. I swear I'll stop him for as long as I can."

My arms slipped around his back, and I held him in a crushing hug that I hoped he could feel. He deserved at least one final comfort, if this was the end. I didn't think that I was the right person to give it to him, but I was the only one there, and his breaths were already tapering off.

"I know you will," I said. "You get some rest, kid. I've got you, I swear."

* * *

 **There we go. Goodnight, Nero.**


	9. Day

**This is the chapter where things get weird, and if you're thinking "things were already weird," well... True.**

* * *

Nero hadn't been lying. He had almost no clothes to speak of. The only drawer with more than two articles of anything was his sock drawer, and the five pairs all had old blood stains soaked around the cuffs. I did manage to find a plain t-shirt, which wasn't great for the weather, but the one he was wearing was so shredded that the t-shirt was an improvement.

When I turned to toss the shirt toward him, I found him - or rather, Vergil - sitting up in bed. I'd dropped him onto it just a few minutes before. From the moment Nero fell asleep, I knew he wouldn't be the one waking up, but I hadn't expected Vergil to wake so soon. He should have let the kid's body rest. At the rate things were going, we were going to play a game to see who passed out from exhaustion first.

Since I'd turned on the light, I did find him to look worse than I'd first thought. He was pale as death, lips dry and cracked, eyes so glazed and heavy that he seemed to be looking more than seeing as he glanced over his arm. "What is this?" he asked, frowning at the black tendrils coiled around scaly flesh. The arm's glow was gone, faded to a dark, shadowy blue.

"It's a suppressant," I said as I threw the shirt to his side. He frowned at that too. "It'll stifle your powers for a bit. I was hoping to use it to get Yamato, but I guess the sword just feels like napping in your arm regardless."

He tugged at one of the tendrils with no luck. His brow was furrowed more with puzzlement than anger. "It is annoying," he said at length.

"So it's working. Good to know." I hadn't actually expected it to, not against Vergil. Had he been less exhausted, I felt he could have broken its grasp with little trouble. Nero certainly could have on his better days.

"For now," Vergil said as he picked up the shirt with the tips of his fingers as though it might have some disease. "I don't believe it will keep me for long, so what is your plan from here?"

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the dresser and held back a sigh. "I just want a minute to actually talk with you," I said.

"A waste of time. You gain nothing, and nothing changes." Dropping the shirt, he pushed himself toward the edge of the bed. His arms shook with the effort, and I wished I'd asked for more of those suppressants to latch onto him. A couple more could have knocked him out for a while. "Tell me," he said as he found his balance on bare feet covered in freshly-sealed cuts. "Why didn't you kill Nero when given such an easy opportunity?"

Every time I thought Vergil couldn't do anything worse, he found new ways to piss me off. The dark threat of a growl tinged my words. "Are you saying you would have let me?"

"No, but I was curious to see if you would try." His eyes were calm as he glanced around the room, as though our conversation was nothing important. "You didn't even consider it, did you?" he asked. "You're terribly sentimental, Dante."

A fresh wave of anger roared through my head and blurred my vision. "That's not sentimentality," I spat. "Nero isn't an object. You're torturing a kid, Vergil!"

His eyes snapped to mine, narrowing in a challenge to what must have been red burning around my irises. "Quit acting as though he's a child," he said. "You wouldn't have allowed him to fight the Savior if he were. And I should hope you wouldn't have allowed him to keep Yamato. I wouldn't have let you keep my sword, but I admit that it was irksome that you would leave it in the hands of an untrained boy you hardly knew."

I threw my hands up to keep from wringing his neck. "Fucking hell, Vergil! I thought he was your kid or something!"

He looked as though I'd slapped him, eyes wide and blinking. When he managed to open his mouth, it just stayed that way. His eyes darted to every corner of the room. I might have found it amusing if I didn't want to throw him through a wall.

After a few failed attempts at speaking that came out as short huffs, he grasped his voice again. "So that's why you cared. You thought the boy was family."

"It didn't matter if he was-"

"No," he bit out, his voice so sharp that it silenced me. "You were just interested in finding someone like yourself again. You never did like being alone."

He must have been aiming to be cruel and hurtful, but I couldn't find any reason to be insulted. I'd done plenty alone. I'd run my own shop for years, and yeah, Lady would hang around sometimes... and Trish, but it wasn't like I invited her or- Oh, and Patty.

If I kept up that train of thought, I might find a reason to be insulted, so I shifted my stance and cocked my head. Being a dick back to Vergil was always an option. "You're going to call me lonely when you've been joined at the hip with this kid for how long?" I said. "That's actually pretty creepy, Verge."

His eyes dimmed with irritation. He'd always been easy to annoy. "It would not have been my first choice, but it was my only choice," he said. "I wasn't even aware of much of anything until recently."

"When his arm changed?" I guessed.

He nodded, flexing the claws. "Yes, I gave him the power to save that girl, but I had little will of my own. Giving the boy strength sapped power away from me the same as this." He held up his arm and the spider-like suppressant along with it. "But I was able to more properly hear from then on. Before that, it had always been muffled whispers, too far away for me to understand. Then I was all-too-aware. It was a bit of a shock once I understood my situation. Though I tried to focus on regaining my own power, the boy was troublesome, reckless. I had to save him again, gave him that farce of a Devil Trigger. Then again and again. I saved this damned city as he wished, and yet you argue that I shouldn't even be owed this form when he and the girl would be dead without me, this city leveled."

"Hey, Trish and I did a pretty good job saving this city too," I said as he took to ignoring me again and headed for the closet. "I seem to recall saving the kid's ass too," I yelled. "You weren't doing the best job on your own."

Along with the clicking of wire hangers, I could hear him muttering. When he reappeared in the closet doorway, he had something white folded over his arm and boots on his feet. The hems of the sweatpants were stuffed inside them. "Yes," he said, his tone dry and harsh as sandpaper. "The boy let himself get captured because he hesitated when it came to the girl and then was distracted when…" His eyes rolled up in search of recollection until he shook his head. "I was still blind at the time, so there was only so much I could do. Being dragged into the Savior cost me a great deal of energy."

"So you admit that I saved you," I said. "Nero wouldn't have been able to break out without Yamato." Not to mention the fact that I'd destroyed all the Hellgates. The city would have been leveled without _me_ there.

He clicked his tongue, his lip curling in distaste. "I suppose I'll have to concede that," he said, "but you were saving the boy, not me."

"You never let me save you." No matter how I tried. I'd always failed him. He said nothing, his gaze drifting from mine toward the demonic arm. The light was starting to come back in a soft, distant glow. I doubted he would continue to talk to me once he'd broken from the suppressant, so I couldn't waste time reminiscing.

"So you had no control over your own power?" I asked. "Nero could take what he wanted?"

Vergil hesitated. His lips thinned as he seemed to debate answering. When he did speak, the words still dragged with uncertainty. "No, I allowed him to take what he needed for a time. It was most important to ensure he stayed alive."

That dashed any hopes I had that the kid could just go back to leeching off of him. Despite Vergil's hesitation, he didn't appear to be lying, but another thought tugged at me like a barbed hook. "Then why give him the power to save Kyrie?" I asked. "Nero mentioned something about that, something about him not being the one in danger when his arm changed."

Vergil's brow furrowed, his gaze drifting off like he was having to think on the idea for the first time. "I don't...recall," he said so slowly that I couldn't decide whether that was the truth. "I wasn't really conscious at the time, so I suppose I didn't know who I was saving. The boy was more in control at the time, and I was blind. Does it matter?" He shrugged as he brought up his arm again. In a flash that stung my eyes, his arm reignited. The suppressant shattered, and Yamato appeared in his hand. "I hope this has been enough of a talk for you. I'm rather tired of it."

"I'm not just going to let you leave again," I said, pushing off the dresser to stand in front of the doorway. Rebellion was a cool comfort against my hand.

His brows shot up. "Really? Because you've done so well at stopping me before."

"You've been cheating, you teleporting ass," I snarled through a smile. "No cracks or windows this time, so quit running away and face me."

"So you can do what exactly? Kill me?"

I was starting to consider it. That deadpan tone of his was infuriating. "If you're so ready for a fight," I said as I leveled my sword, "then let's see you actually try to kill me instead of running away. Looks to me like you're still trying to buy time because you don't have full control yet."

His eyes tinged dark like a storm at sea. "I can assure you, the boy holds no control anymore. I didn't wish to bother with you, but if you insist, I will be happy to end you." The floor creaked under his feet as he pressed up to his toes and rushed me. His strike was simple enough to knock away with Rebellion, and the air rang with the familiar sound of our swords clashing.

He stepped back to correct his balance and tossed out his usual array of summon swords, so I snapped the door shut between us. The swords all smacked halfway through the wood and hung there. For all he liked to pretend, he was nowhere near full strength yet. I couldn't help but snicker at the sound of Vergil growling on the other side. "Sorry, kid," I called just before kicking the door in, knocking it halfway off his hinges. Vergil finished the poor thing off by slicing it in two. When he launched himself at me again, I had no trouble stepping out of the way of his swing.

"You're not up to par yet," I said. "Did that suppressant hit you that hard, or is this the best you can do?"

"Fight me if you're going to," he snarled before trying to gut me with a furious slash, lacking all of Vergil's usual finesse. Again, I caught it with a sweep of Rebellion. The weight of his swing made my arm buzz, but it sent him ricocheting back. He was wide open. I could have swung through and finished him off or at least done some real damage. If he could heal from those summon swords, a cut from Rebellion was nothing.

Then, once he was injured… Well, it had to do something. There must have been some way to get the kid back, and maybe hitting him hard enough was it.

Before my swing could connect, though, I had to lock up my arms and jerk back against the bright, clear voice at my back. "Nero!" Kyrie yelled.

As Vergil righted himself, I stepped back, Rebellion still between us and my arm out in a weak attempt to shield Kyrie from him. She had some terrible timing. "Kyrie," I said. "You should-"

"No," she said. The boards crackled under her feet as she stormed forward until my arm was the only thing stopping her. When I glanced over my shoulder, I found her glare on Vergil. "You're not him. You're Black." With trembling hands, she reached for her ankle and pulled two palm-sized throwing knives from a hidden holster.

"Uh, Kyrie," I attempted again. "Maybe don't-"

I might as well have not been there. "Give him back!" she snapped as she fit the knives into her hands. "I won't lose anyone else to demons. I won't! Let him go right now!" Tears rimmed her eyes, yet she stared Vergil down without flinching. Her bravery was commendable, but I couldn't fight Vergil and make sure he didn't stab her at the same time.

Some nagging thought in the back of my head told me that if anything could snap the kid back, it would be her in danger, but I smothered the idea under my heel. I would not let anything happen to her. If I did, Nero would pop back just to kill me.

But Vergil remained still, Yamato at his side. His eyes flicked over her with some vague interest. "You should stay out of this," he said. "Nero is gone, and humans shouldn't involve themselves with devils. The outcome is never good."

I felt like the floor had fallen out from under me. He didn't sound threatening, not his tone or words. He could have been talking to her about the weather. "I will not!" Kyrie said. "You let him go, or I'll-"

"Or what?" Vergil asked, still bored rather than venomous. "You'll attack me? That would be counterproductive, I think."

She took a sharp breath to steady herself. "Well, some pain might wake him up again."

I didn't think she would actually throw one of the knives, so when it whizzed past my ear, I could only shove her behind me and hope for the best - the best being a sword through my sternum. Vergil was bound to attack her now, and I would have to play human shield.

Except, he stayed still. He didn't even dodge. The knife ate into his left shoulder, drawing a fresh swell of blood to soak the already-ruined shirt. He frowned at it like it was an insect bothering him. "I thought the boy taught you better than that," he said as he reached over and wrenched the knife free with a fraction of a wince. "If you don't aim to do any real damage, it's a wasted throw, and then you're short one knife." He held the blade up between his claws, examining the silvery shine and rivulets of blood. "But I suppose that's to be expected. What was it? Blessed for song, not for sword?"

Kyrie's hand locked onto my arm. Her fingers curled into the sleeve as she pulled herself out from behind me. Something in her eyes was wrong, empty and ashen yet coated with grief. "Don't you dare," she breathed. "You can't… You don't get to use his words. Give Nero back this instant. I won't let you use him like that."

Though Vergil's eyes were still on the knife, he didn't seem to see it anymore. He stared off into something else, his brow furrowed with a growing unease. "Enough of this," he said, his voice as dark as hers. "You may have this back. Don't miss next time." When he flicked the knife her way, I stepped in front of her again, but the arc was so light that I was able to reach up and grab the handle from the air. At the same time, the glittering blue of a summon sword crossed the edge of my vision. When I looked up, he was gone again. Of course.

"Where did he go?" Kyrie demanded. "What happened? Is Nero okay? There was so much blood!"

Following him would have been pointless. I was certain he was out of sight already, and Kyrie deserved some answers. Some. I wasn't sure "my brother has been possessing him since he was a kid" would go over well.

I had to come up with some quick lies. "So things are a little difficult right now," I admitted. "Nero is okay. All those wounds are healed, but Black is a bit of a pain. I think it... came with Nero's arm when it changed." Guilt twisted my gut like a hand jammed into my stomach. I didn't want to freak her out, and I couldn't tell her things were hopeless.

If I had to kill Nero, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to face her again.

Her eyes swam with fear. "Are you going to have to cut his arm off?"

I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her that she wasn't the first person to suggest it. "No, I don't think that'll do any good. Just a waste of a perfectly good arm." But if I did cut it off, I wondered where Yamato would go. That could be a last resort if I needed to get the sword away. In theory, it would just fall out of his arm or something. Weird.

"But my friends are here now," I added. "They just arrived, and they're going to help me get Black wrangled so that we can fix the kid."

Liar. Liar. Liar.

"Oh," she said softly as her hands clasped under her chin. "So Black can… read Nero's mind or something?"

"I'm sorry?"

Her brow knitted, and she looked toward the living room walls. The first rays of morning shone across the photos. "That thing he said earlier," she murmured, "about how I'm not suited for swords. When I was little, I wanted to join the Holy Knights, but they didn't really let girls in. Nero tried to stick up for me and say that wasn't fair, but Credo told us that the Order wouldn't let me become a Knight, and he was very sorry, but really, I was blessed for song, not for sword. That was a long time before Nero's arm changed."

I had a lot more questions to ask Vergil.

"I've got to go after him," I said, darting back into Nero's room to grab my bag. Not much of what I'd asked Lady to bring was going to do me much good anymore, but they were too expensive to just leave around. I could sleep when this was sorted. Not now. "Kyrie, you should go back to wherever you were staying. Actually-" I looked up to find her pouting and hanging on the doorframe. "Why did you come here so early?"

"People were saying some weird things had happened around nightfall, and I was worried. I tried to wait until it was light out, but I couldn't sleep." She shifted her weight between her feet and heaved a sigh. "Do I really have to stay behind again?"

Standing with the bag slung over my shoulder, I gave her a half-bow. "Sorry, I don't trust Black to be on his best behavior around nice young ladies." And she would slow me down too much. "Also, sorry about your house again."

"Oh it's been through worse," she muttered, eyeing the shattered door. "Just bring Nero back, okay?"

"Of course." I flashed her a smile and waved as I rushed out. If only it were that simple. As usual, Vergil had quite a lead on me, and the island was huge. I knew of one path that wouldn't immediately get me lost, the same one I'd already taken twice before. Though I couldn't be sure he'd return there again, he did like that ruined building. I had thought he went there the second time just so I would follow.

Kyrie had mentioned Vergil wandering around the forest too, and when I came to the edge of the trees, the reason struck me. A half-dozen demon corpses littered the ground as a good ten more live ones lurked around, growling. "There are a lot of you," I said as I flicked my guns into my hands. "The kid wasn't lying. Sun's up, guys. You really ought to find a darker place to haunt."

Their answer, as usual, was a mix of screeches and groans. The little ones were never much fun. Taking them out was a relief, mindless work that I was used to. Killing demons was simple. I could do that all day. Dealing with humans and my family, not so much.

Though the forest wasn't the jungle from before, the area was still massive and dense. I followed a trail of carnage over cliff sides and around ruins that nature had reclaimed. I wondered if Vergil was taking out his stress on the demons the same way I was because even with all the dead I found, more were nice enough to come see me.

Nero never would have asked for my help in clearing out some demons, yet I found myself imagining that we could have met back up that way instead. I could have run into the kid on his island again, hassled him about his demon problem, maybe had a drink with him or something. No Black. No Vergil. No watching the life drain from the kid inch by inch.

No fear that I would need to deal enough damage to keep his body from mending.

"Where are all of you coming from?" I asked as a swarm of the floating ones wearing black drapes swam up around me. I didn't mind the distraction from my thoughts. "Is that big gate hemorrhaging somehow? Are there more mad scientists running around?"

The bedsheet boys were not much help. Their only answer was trying to make me a pincushion for their weird, glowing fingers. A few quick hops kept me from adding any new holes to my head as I twirled my guns into my hands once again. Before I could have any fun, though, a flash of blue came spinning in and sliced through three of the bastards. Without their shadowy cloaks, they fell to the ground writhing and skittering like flipped roaches. A flurry of the blue, spinning blades followed to finish the job and knock down the rest.

"So sweet of you to look out for me," I called, tossing my guns back into their holsters as I turned to find Vergil leaning against a tree a few yards away.

"They were in my way," he said. Still the kid's face. Still the kid's voice, yet the more I looked at him, the more I saw Vergil. It was in the way he held his head and his sharp tone. He didn't have Yamato in the arm anymore; instead, he held it in its sheath. I found it hard to see him as Nero at all, helped by the fact that he was in all-white now, the same uniform I'd seen on the Knights when I'd first arrived. I couldn't imagine Nero wearing something that stuffy.

"Is that what you took from the house?" I asked. "I guess it fits you. All you're missing is the cravat."

His brows rose as he shot me his patented "you're an idiot" look. "The boy used to wear this daily," he said. "It's the uniform for the Holy Knights. It just happened to be the only sensible thing he had left to wear. I was not going to run around in pajamas."

"I'm just going to ignore the fact that you have a working knowledge of the kid's usual wardrobe."

"What do you want now, Dante?" he asked through a sigh.

"I told you I wasn't going to let you get away. This is just going to be how it is until you let the kid go or kill me."

"Tempting as that is, I don't feel up to either option at the moment."

He just knew I'd beat him in a fight, but he did look halfway to passing out. I doubted he was up for much of anything. Every few seconds, his gaze would grow dull and distant until a harsh blink brought him back to reality. He was overexerting himself, and he was bound to get sloppy sooner or later against the swarms of demons. Then again, I couldn't imagine why he was out fighting them in the first place. Surely he wanted to get off the island as soon as possible, away from me.

"Vergil, what's your plan anyway?" I asked.

"I suppose I'll get rid of this infestation," he said. "It's irritating and makes for good practice."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Oh?" He didn't sound interested. He wasn't even looking at me.

"What do you plan to do with control of the kid's body? What are you going to do from here on?"

Once again, his eyes rolled up, and he paused as though he hadn't considered it before. "I won't be able to return to the strength I once had with this weak form," he said at length. "But I suppose it'll do."

That wasn't an answer, and my patience with him was already wearing thin again. Annoyance dripped from my tone. "Because he doesn't have as much demonic blood? Or because you can't get full control?"

Vergil's lip tugged toward a snarl. "I have full control."

"Really?" I drawled. "Because you're favoring your right side so much that I barely see you use your left. I'd bet there's a drag to your left when you walk."

The way he refused to meet my gaze said enough. "I'm still adjusting to this form, but it won't be much longer before I have a handle on it."

"And then what?" I asked. "What happens to him? What happens to you?"

The exhaustion he was trying so hard to hide crept into his voice, giving it an odd softness I never heard from my brother. "He will fall into a stasis, as I was for so long. It is not a terrible fate. He will not suffer."

"Like you care," I snarled. "You can't take his body and knock him out, and then tell me he's not suffering."

"It has nothing to do with you anyhow!" He was awake again, eyes sharp with a frosty sting as they bored into me. "I will deal with this demon issue, and then I will leave. Then we needn't speak ever again. As far as you'll be concerned, I won't exist. As it's always been."

He tried to stalk off, but I matched my stride to his and kept at his back. "Why even bother clearing out an issue on some backwater island?" I called. "You're not being your usual 'what's in it for me' self." Everything about him was Vergil, yet there was something off, like a painting titled a few degrees off center.

"We haven't seen each other in years, Dante," he said. "How should you know which 'self' to expect? You've changed too."

"Me? Changed? Scruffier, maybe. More handsome, definitely. Overall, I'm not that different. But you said you were in stasis. Of course I'd expect you to be the same, napping for all those years."

"Yes, I suppose I would have thought the same." His words were thin, and for just an instant, something flickered in his eye. I couldn't catch whatever it was. By the time he turned back toward me with a glare, it was gone. "And what exactly do you expect to accomplish by following me?"

I didn't know. I suppose I didn't expect anything, but I felt that both Nero and my brother were my responsibility at that point. If all I could do was keep an eye on Vergil, then that would be my job until the kid returned. Or didn't.

"Should I just leave the demons to you then?" he asked when I didn't respond. "If you're already going this way, I needn't bother."

"You didn't answer my question before," I said. "Why are you bothering with these small-fry at all?"

"I am out of practice," he hissed through his teeth.

Flustered was always an odd look on Vergil, and I couldn't help but rush up to his side to see it better. He leaned away, his shoulders taut as a grin broke out across my face. "Is that why the kid kept waking up a mess?" I asked. His quiet growl was the perfect answer. "You kept getting your ass kicked by a bunch of low-level demons. Fuck, that's hilarious. I wish I could have seen it."

"I had very little control over this body at the time!" he snapped, which only made me burst into laughter. "I couldn't even see out of both eyes, and I was deaf in one ear. Besides, I hadn't had a form to use in years. Coordination was… difficult."

"You forgot how to move?" I asked, still smirking. "Was it like riding a bicycle? Did it come back to you?"

"You're insufferable."

It was too easy to joke with him, too easy to have him annoyed with me. I shouldn't have been so comfortable with it, but it fit like an old glove or riding a bike. I couldn't let myself be fine with Nero's state. I told myself that I was just tired. When I didn't feel like I could pass out in the dirt at my feet, we could go back to fighting again.

"Maybe we can find a way to get you your own body," I said. "Some weird Frankenstein's monster thing. I know just about everyone who works in occult stuff, so we should give it a shot."

"It's not possible."

"How can you be so sure?"

As his steps slowed, he looked up at the light shining down through bare branches. "When I was first able to gain control for a substantial amount of time, I looked for any materials that might aid me in my state. The lab here had a great deal of them, much of them regarding the combining of demon and human souls. When two become meshed, there is no extraction. I read the results of every experiment. They were...ugly to say the least. So no, there is no separation. There is only Nero, or only me, and I have given him enough time."

I wouldn't have wanted to take the scientist's word as law, but he had turned so many humans into demons. He was smart, and he knew what he was doing, the sick bastard. If Vergil was right, and there could only be one of them, then it had to be Nero. I didn't know what would happen to Vergil then.

"We won't know if we don't try," I said, still trying to hold a smile. "You can't just relive your twenties through Nero. You should at least attempt to get your own form. The Order's research isn't law."

"I never lived my twenties at all," he said. If he'd rammed Yamato through my chest, it would have hurt less than those words. "Even if we found some miracle," he continued, "even if you managed something that could extricate me from Nero, that would leave him with little demonic power and no healing capabilities. Do you really expect that foolhardy boy to survive without my power? He is far too reckless."

My lungs felt tight, like no air could get through. The truth was bitter on my tongue. "I'd rather have Nero die in some reckless fight than be a prisoner in his own body for the rest of his life."

Yamato sang as Vergil tore it from its sheath and tried to take off my head. I jumped back out of reach, Rebellion appearing in my hand before I could think of what had just happened.

"You understand nothing," Vergil spat. "I told you that Nero will not suffer in his state. I wouldn't do that to him."

The words seemed to surprise him as much as they did me. "Have you lost your mind?" I asked. "Kyrie already told me about you looking at the kid's memories, and now you're going to act like you're doing him some big favor?"

Vergil shut his eyes just as they began to burn red. His hand shot to clutch at his head. "I saved him!"

"Just so you could kill him later!" The air around me burned with my rage. He was welcome to try attacking me again because I would not hold back anymore. How dare he. _How dare he?_

"I would not wish him dead!" he said like what he was doing was any damn better.

"Don't act like you care," I growled, the edge of my Trigger tinging my voice. "You're just in this for your own gains."

"Of course I am. I don't care." He threw his hand to his side, eyes opening to reveal wild confusion. "I shouldn't care, dammit!"

I hadn't seen Vergil look so lost since we were children, and all my anger snapped away. Dazed emptiness took over as I tried to find some reason to his words, but maybe it was all just a ploy because I found Yamato jammed through my gut a second later. Before the pain tore up what little coherent thought I had, he'd vanished once again.

* * *

 **Dante's confused. Vergil's confused. Nero is... napping.**

 **Super big thanks to my reviewers. Y'all're rad.**


	10. Noon

**The end of the semester kicked my ass, but I'm back finally. Here are some words.**

* * *

Benches were hell on the spine. If not for the snow, the ground would have been preferable. Despite how much my back ached, though, I could have slept another two days or so. The only thing keeping me from achieving that dream was the bench rattling under me each time Lady slammed her boot against it. "Wake up, Dante," she barked. "Can't you be where you say you're going to for once in your damn life?"

"Don't bother the poor homeless man, Lady," Trish said. "Look at how tired he is."

"He dragged us out here, and if we don't get to sleep, neither does he."

"Good morning to you too," I said as I squinted into the sun. The damn light was blinding reflecting off the snow. I'd dusted off the park bench before passing out on it, but the snow must have fallen some more while I was asleep because I had an extra frosty layer on my coat. A few flakes clung to my eyelashes until I rubbed them away under a heavy hand.

"Did you find your brother?" Trish asked.

With a sigh, I sat up to stretch the knots from my back. "Sort of. How could you tell?"

"The young lady at the house said you went after him." Her eyes flicked over me. "You also changed clothes. I hope you did that at the house."

My eyes darted to their corners, giving me away in an instant. Lady gave a disgusted huff. "Well, no one was around!" I said. "And my shirt could only take so much damage. Thanks for the change of clothes, anyway." I tossed a lazy hand toward the duffel bag, where I'd stuffed my bloody shirt and pants. They were beyond repair, stained and torn. I needed a place to throw them out.

"I'm not going to bring you any more if you're going to strip in public," Lady said. "So what happened with Vergil? You got your ass kicked?"

I shrugged. "Not totally kicked. He did stab me."

"Is this supposed to be news? That's all Vergil does."

My mouth opened a few times as I tried to grasp a rebuttal, but no, she was right. That had historically been the case with Vergil. "But there's something weird about him," I said. "It's like he's got…" My hands flailed in a vain attempt to grasp an explanation. "Emotions?"

Lady's brows shot up from behind her sunglasses. "Other than smug?"

"Well, that's still the main one."

"Explain," Trish said over me. "What happened?"

As I fished Rebellion out from under the bench, I tried to think of what exactly had happened with Vergil. "Not the easiest question to answer," I muttered. "Did Kyrie tell you anything?"

The way Trish's lip twitched let me know I'd made a mistake. "No, but she seems to be under the impression that we'll be doing an exorcism. Do you want to keep stalling so I can tell you off for that, or would you like to get back to that explanation?"

To my credit, I didn't remember telling Kyrie anything about an exorcism. She'd jumped to that conclusion herself, but I didn't need to be chewed out about it. I already knew I'd pulled a dick move there. "Alright, where to begin?" I said as I hopped to my feet. My explanation was fragmented from the bits I could remember of what Vergil had said and the parts I was willing to share. They didn't need to hear everything. I was certain they knew I was leaving things out, but Vergil had a way of cutting me down to the bone and dragging out truths I didn't want to hear.

This wasn't about me, and anything Vergil had to say about me didn't matter. This was about the kid.

"He said he shouldn't care." That part I couldn't get out of my head. I rarely saw Vergil look so open with his feelings, so confused and fearful. The emotions looked just as strange on Nero's face. "And that was when he stabbed me and ran off. Kind of rude, really."

"Yeah, he could have at least put you out of your misery," Lady said. "So what's the deal? Vergil doesn't know how to handle his newfound feelings?"

"Vergil has feelings."

Both girls shot me such dry looks that I could feel them even from behind the sunglasses.

"Well, he feels things sometimes," I qualified, "but caring is not usually one of those." But then, that wasn't quite right either. Vergil cared about all sorts of things, not the right things, but he sure as hell cared. None of that matched up to the way he'd been acting. No big rants about power, and he hadn't even really tried to kill me.

Lady's eyes must have been flicking off in search of something because she leaned to one side like when she was battling a thought. "From what I've heard, the kid seemed like he had too many emotions," she said, "so maybe some just bled onto Vergil."

I blinked. "Is that a joke?"

At Lady's shrug, I realized that neither of us knew. "But it does make some sense," Trish cut in, looking far too calm for her words. "If the two are entirely interconnected, their thoughts and feelings could resonate."

Nothing about that sounded good, and I found myself scanning the treeline around us for some sign of Vergil. If I could just talk to him again, if I could just get some straight answers for once, well, it wouldn't change anything, but at least I would understand.

The forest was a wall of green and white, thick with firs and snow. No sign of anyone, demon or otherwise. They were certainly lurking, though. "You think Vergil and Nero are turning into one person?" I asked. That might have been the worst outcome I could imagine.

"Not exactly," Trish said. "They're still two people, but if you're around someone long enough, you'll start picking up their speaking habits, yes? Even if Vergil were unconscious all those years he shared Nero's being, he would no-doubt be influenced by Nero, perhaps like hearing an outside voice in your dreams. I doubt Vergil can understand this himself, but who wants to protect Fortuna more than Nero? Why kill the demons here if not to that end?"

Vergil had said it was for practice, but he could practice anywhere. He shouldn't have wanted to stay on this island, not with me hanging around. Trish's explanation couldn't have been right, though, because if Vergil started acting like Nero, it would have been so bad for my health that there was no way I would have made it out alive.

"No, I think he's just stalling for some reason," I decided, shaking my head. "He may not have full control yet. Besides, even if Vergil were starting to act more like a pain-in-the-ass teen again, that wouldn't make him suddenly pretend to care about Nero's wellbeing. If I have to hear about how Nero isn't suffering one more goddamn time..." I cut myself off with a growl. My heart started hammering behind my eyes at the thought. Every time Vergil acted like he wasn't the one doing Nero any harm, like he was owed the kid's life and was some kind of savior, I wanted to knock some sense into that damn thick skull of his.

"Now don't take this how you're going to take this," Lady said as she removed her sunglasses just to stare me down. "But how much has Vergil actually physically harmed Nero?"

Her eyes insisted that I think things over before I snapped any response. Keeping myself from biting back was like strangling myself with a cord. "What do you mean?" I managed with an edge of tension.

"Well, you said Nero stabbed himself, gave himself an allergic reaction, fell off a building…" She counted each offense off on her fingers. "But what did Vergil do? Punched him the one time maybe? I might have punched the kid too in that situation. It just doesn't sound like Vergil did that much damage."

"So he was looking after the body he wanted," I said, tossing my hands up. "Ew. I hate saying that. You know, Lady, I never took you for the type to vouch for my brother."

Her boot slammed onto the bench again. "Your brother is welcome to my foot shoved up his ass any day." And judging by the look she was giving me, so was I.

A peacekeeping yet threatening smile eased onto Trish's face as she stepped between us. "As much fun as it is theorizing over how the parasite cares for its host," she said, "we'd have more luck asking Vergil directly. I know you want to stall, Dante, but standing around does us little good."

With the haze of sleep fading from my mind, I managed one of my usual dramatic sighs. "I'm pretty sure you two were the ones who started this whole tangent, but sure, blame it on me." She was right, though. I didn't want to go face Vergil again, not until I had some solution. Besides, my chest still ached with each breath. I hadn't had enough to eat for my healing to bother fixing me up within a few hours.

"We're really just going to go talk to Vergil?" Lady asked as she shouldered her rocket launcher. I had no idea how she carried that through town in broad daylight without anyone freaking out. "Getting his side of the story doesn't really do us any good if he's still in possession of Nero. Either we find a way to get the kid his body back, or I'm putting him out of his misery. We can't just let Vergil go off into the world as he pleases."

She was looking at me. Waiting. Like she'd asked a question that needed answering.

Well, she hadn't said it out loud, but I heard the question loud and clear.

"I know," I said. "I'm not going to let Vergil go, but I haven't given up on Nero yet, and we can't just kill them both. Not if there's still…" But I couldn't bring myself to finish the thought. What was there? A chance? Another option? I couldn't find any.

I just needed to talk to Vergil again - the same thing I'd told myself already, and it got me nowhere.

Once more with feeling, then. Fourth time's the charm.

"Before we go," Trish said as I grabbed the bag and dusted snow from it. "Tell me, Dante. Your brother, have you given up on him?"

"I made peace with Vergil's death a long time ago," I said like that wasn't the biggest damn lie I'd ever told. It might have been more convincing if I could have looked either of them in the eye, but I had to keep my sights on the trees. "He made his decisions. I'm in this to save Nero. Whatever it takes to get the kid back is what I'll do."

I could feel the girls looking at each other behind my back. They didn't believe me, and I didn't blame them. The words sounded nice out loud, nice enough that I hoped I could convince myself with them.

The demons were still lurking around when we headed into the forest. Without Vergil carving a path ahead of me, I found even more of the bastards than before. "I think we would cover more ground if we split up," Trish said after blasting open what I guessed was the head of one of the weird plant bastards.

"That sounds like something you say right before we all die," I said. Another one tried to latch onto one of the patchwork things, so I shot them both to pieces.

"The three of us together are attracting a lot of demons." She brought one gun to rest against her shoulder, the other on her cocked hip. "We'll move easier separate."

"Then do we need a signal in case I need to come rescue someone?" I asked with a feigned bow.

"Or for if we find Vergil?" Lady added.

Despite all of us agreeing that it was a good idea, no one could think of much of a signal, so it just came down to "yell if you're about to die, and maybe someone will come get you." Trish took the west side of the forest, Lady the east, and that left me with the north. Besides the demons and the occasional cliffside, there wasn't much to see. Trudging through cold forests was getting to be an odd habit of mine.

My eye did catch some shimmering black stones among the soggy, dead leaves and pine needles. Alright, truthfully, I only noticed after I had to yank a few out of the soles of my boots. Like obsidian, they were jagged and sharp as glass. Once I started looking, I found the things everywhere, all ready to mess up my perfectly good boots.

My only other interesting find was a weird bird perched in the branches of a bare tree like it was a recliner. It seemed asleep until I stepped close and an eye snapped open. "I wish you wouldn't have brought the women along," it grumbled. "They're difficult."

"That's not the pretty morning tweeting I was expecting," I called. "Did you get stuck up there, or are you making some bird friends?"

Vergil still couldn't hide his exhaustion enough to manage a proper glare. "Well, I wasn't going to rest on the ground, now was I? So you're back again. Do you have some new revelation, or are you just here to pester me?"

"Pestering you is all I know how to do."

"I'm aware."

We weren't going to get far with me having to yell up at him. As much fun as climbing the tree after him sounded, I wasn't as light as Nero, and those branches wouldn't hold two. I needed to drag him down somehow.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I'm starved, and I'll bet the kid has one hell of a metabolism." Unless Vergil had been scavenging in the forest, the last time either of us ate would have been yesterday afternoon. My stomach was happy to remind me with stabbing pangs and bouts of nausea.

"I can eat once this issue has been taken care of," Vergil said. At the rate the demons were appearing, that would be a few days even with his summon swords.

"All that work to take over, and you won't even take care of his body," I said as Vergil took a few light steps down the branches like some dainty girl descending a staircase. "You've already run the kid ragged fighting demons all night. Let him eat. I'll even make you something."

"That sounds like a threat." He dropped to the ground two paces away, a stumble marring his attempt at the cat-like landing. No matter what he said, he still didn't have a hang of movement yet. "As I've said," he continued in an attempt to cover up his mistake, "the boy isn't troubled by anything. And what good would it do for us to have breakfast? Are you going to try pretending that you're alright with the situation now? Going to try to make the best of it? I don't care to do any catching up for old time's sake. I'd rather we never meet again."

He was starting to sound more like the Vergil I knew, and I couldn't decide whether that was a good thing. When he crossed his arms, I found myself doing the same.

"I don't remember saying I was alright with any of this." There was something entertaining about having him shorter than me so that I could lean over him. I'd never been able to do that before. Vergil and I were always the same height. The venom in his eyes as he looked up at me was even more entertaining. "And I know it's been a while since you had a body, but things like food are kind of important. We can just sit down somewhere with indoor heating, and talk and not try to kill each other. It's a pretty novel idea, I think."

"Is this that date you wanted?" he spat.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb. You asked me on a date before. Disgusting."

After a few blinks, my eyes shot wide. "Fuck, I forgot about that."

His shoulders bunched by his ears. "I wish I could forget your idiocies so easily. It must be nice to be you."

"It's not like I knew who I was asking on a date. I thought you were just some random demon."

His brow pinched, eyes thinning in bafflement. "Don't ask strange demons to dinner."

"I'm glad you've decided to care about my dating life. It really warms my heart, Verge."

He started to raise that glowing hand of his, probably to pull Yamato, but I almost expected him to flip me off like the kid. A strange whining growl cut through the air and froze him in place.

"Was that your stomach or mine?" I asked. "I think it was yours."

"It was not," he huffed. His cheeks turned a shade of pink, a trait he'd definitely gotten from the kid. Damn. I couldn't remember seeing Vergil blush since we were both kids. He still turned his face to the side with the same pout.

A laugh escaped me in a breath. "Come on, let's call a truce for now and get some food."

His expression remained the same, face turned away and eyes off among the trees. "Only if the women are not involved," he said.

I hadn't expected him to agree, but it was a nice surprise. A grin flashed onto my face. "I'd like to keep my head, so it'll be our secret. Just us."

With a satisfied nod, his eyes snapped back to me. "And you're paying."

"Aw, we can't go to the house where the food is free?" My wallet was already suffering enough.

"No, if Kyrie is there, it would be troublesome."

Hearing him use her name was weird. I'd expected her to always be "the girl." Vergil was never all that flattering to others.

"Where do you want to go then?" I asked.

"I know of a place."

Also weird.

He led us back out through the forest, tracing the edge of town until we reached a diner that had seen better days. The place must have been someone's house at one point because it had a screen door that Vergil slipped past with a practiced ease.

When I tried, the door swung in faster than I'd expected and smacked me in the back. "Do you come here often?" I asked as Vergil ruffled the snow from his hair.

"No, but-"

"Nero!" came a bark from the kitchen. "So you are alive." A scruffy-looking kid about Nero's age pushed past the swinging doors and plopped down to lean over the counter. "Everyone's been saying you died."

"You shouldn't believe rumors," Vergil said.

"There's nothing else to do," the guy grumbled. "What are you doing in your uniform? Haven't seen you in that in a long time."

The pause was too long not to feel awkward. Vergil must not have planned to answer questions. I would have expected him to just brush the guy off, insult him or demand our food. But Vergil took a seat at one of the barstools with a quiet, "I was out of clothes."

The guy barked a laugh. "Just do your laundry. This guy with you?" He tossed a hand my way. "Is that the one who shot His Holiness?"

With his legs crossed and his fingers laced in front of him, Vergil looked nothing like the kid he was impersonating. "Will you still serve us if I say yes?"

"As long as I'm getting paid, sure. He's not blackmailing you or anything, is he? You're acting weird."

Vergil's shoulders tensed. "He's… a friend. Could I have my usual?"

With a topic change like that, I was surprised the guy didn't get whiplash. "Sure," he said, his hands up in a lazy surrender. "And for you, Mr. Outlaw?" Cautious eyes shot my way.

Taking a seat beside Vergil, I managed a split-second glance at a menu. The word pasta caught my eye. "Do you have pizza?"

"You're in Fortuna. Of course we have pizza."

He poured Vergil a mug of coffee before heading to the back. He must have been both the waiter and the cook because I didn't hear anyone else but him clinking the dishes together back there. We were the only ones in the place with its old tile walls and squeaky barstools. Vergil sipped his coffee, his eyes lost to some distant thought that had his brow furrowed.

His distraction was the only thing saving us from an awkward silence. Now that I had him pinned, I wasn't sure what to ask or where to begin. So many years had passed since I last saw him, and many more before that, yet I felt like nothing had changed for me in all that time. He said I'd changed, but no, the days had blurred together into stagnation. Meeting Nero was the first real change for me in ages.

"Is the pizza here good?" I asked just to fill the silence.

He'd already downed half his coffee by the time he set the mug down. "The boy likes it."

"You know what he likes?"

"I have an idea." The tips of his fingers pressed into a laminated menu and dragged it across the counter toward us. Worn eyes skimmed the list of meals as he spoke. "The idea of anything too sweet sickens me, but I find other things appealing, even if I've never tried them myself. And I know he often orders poached eggs with toast here. Coffee with cream but no sugar."

"How do you know that?"

He shrugged, and that faraway look found his eyes again. "I'm unsure, but I can't recall that cook's name." This seemed to trouble him, his whole expression puzzled as he searched for a name he shouldn't have cared about.

"Alright Vergil," I sighed, forcing his attention back to me. "Walk me through this whole ordeal. How'd you come to…" I waved a hand up from the kid's head, down to his feet. "This?"

His sigh was silent, but I could see it in the way his chest fell. "I've already told you most of what I could. I did not choose this position. I was not even aware I had it until the arm manifested. I was simply dying one moment and here the next. I know I was asleep for some time. I'm aware that time passed, yet time passed me by in a dreamless state. I only had the right ear for so long. That was all that tethered me to some form of reality. It's strange not having a body, not having sight or touch or even pain. But I suppose, before, that's all there was - pain. The lack of feeling was a relief for a time." For a moment, his eyes showed too much, his expression laid bare with the anguish of those years he'd spent without control of his own body. Then he shook his head, and it was gone.

I couldn't let myself feel sympathy because of what he'd done to Nero. But I could feel guilt. Damn, I could feel some guilt. I drowned in it, like I was sinking and refusing to swim up. "And that's how Nero is now?" I asked.

Vergil nodded once. "Taking over parts of his body one at a time was not what I'd wanted. I was able to have bouts of near-full control, but they never lasted long. My grip was weak. I had to practice. My plan was to get to a point where I could simply snap him from his form completely and place myself in control. The only thing I took other than his ear was one eye, just to be able to see when I needed to."

"When you needed to?" I echoed. I'd been avoiding the question, but while we were there…

This time his sigh was audible and filled with contempt. "I can shut off my focus as needed. I never heard or saw anything… unfortunate. But when you arrived, I realized you were going to attempt to intervene, and I would need to rush things or face your constant watch. In the end, I suppose it didn't matter, but that was why I had to pull so much from Nero individually - smell, then taste, then touch, then sight, and hearing."

"Could you give any of those things back?"

"Well, it's not a matter of if I could. It's if I would." He paused to finish his coffee, and our food came out before I could hear anything else from him. The pizza had more leaves on it than I would have expected. The scruffy cook who Vergil kept staring down informed me that was basil and not some random leaves he found outside.

Vergil had poached eggs with toast and asked for the whole coffee pot.

"So," I began again after the cook had gone back to wash dishes. "Do you care about Nero?" Best to just come out and say it.

Vergil took a bite of his toast, one brow raised as he chewed. He didn't answer until after he was done chewing because he had manners or something "Care for him? To what end? I've certainly taken care of him, but only for the sake of keeping him from killing us both. I have no sort of emotional attachment, though, if that's what you're asking."

There. That was one question answered with the sort of thing I'd expected of Vergil. "And he's not your son?" I prompted.

He looked like he'd stubbed his toe. "What is your fascination with that?"

"Well, you didn't say no before. Are you sure you didn't have a wild, drunken one night stand with some Fortunan woman?"

"He's not my son!"

"Okay, next question. What's up with you having Nero's memories?"

A bit of hesitation made his lip twitch. "I don't."

He must have forgotten that I could tell when he was lying without much trouble. I knew him too well. His voice rose in pitch when he lied, just a fraction, but I could hear it. "You must have something," I said. "You clearly know some things you shouldn't."

His usual frown deepened. The clatter of dishes from the kitchen kept us from silence until he found his answer. "No, clearly not. I can't recall the cook's name."

"You're still on that!?" My voice came out louder than I'd intended, but I didn't bother to lower it. "That's a lame excuse, and you know it."

"I've told you all you need to hear."

"You're avoiding giving an answer."

A crack appeared in the mug under his hand. "I don't need to say anything else to sate your curiosity. I don't owe you any answers. No matter what you learn, nothing changes. You're better off in your usual ignorance."

"Vergil-" I tried to grab his arm. My mistake. He caught my wrist before I could get close. Slamming my hand down onto the counter, he grabbed the coffee pot and upturned the whole thing right over my perfectly-good hand.

I bit my tongue to stifle a whine as I doubled over and tried to shake the furious sting of scorched flesh from my hand. I couldn't imagine how he drank that without his lips melting.

Behind me, the sound of his boots slamming into the linoleum grew farther away until the screen door whined its way open. "Apologies for the mess," he called. "My _friend_ will be paying." When I looked up from the healing skin on my hand, I found the cook standing between the swinging kitchen doors. His eyes were wide with what looked more like curiosity than shock as he looked from me to Vergil.

"Uh, sure," the cook said. "See you, Nero."

I glanced back in time to see Vergil nod and slip out. His voice faded along with him. "Goodbye, Drew."

The cook looked at the coffee spill dripping from his counter, his expression fading back to a dull frown. "At least get some napkins or something," he said. "Your hand doesn't look that bad."

My healing still felt like pricking needles all over the back of my palm, but that wasn't what had me stuck in place, staring at the testy cook. "Drew?" I managed at length. "That's your name?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"I'm confused," I sighed. "Can you make more coffee?"

"Let me see that you actually have money first, and I'll think about it."

* * *

 **I got a guest question about the dad thing, so - Believe what you'd like. Sometimes characters lie. And if I'm honest, it doesn't matter in this fic.**

 **Also, Drew isn't important and won't show up after this, so everyone say bye. Bye, Drew.**

 **Huge thanks to my reviewers, and sorry for the wait!**


	11. Afternoon

Fortuna was nicer from up above. Quieter. Away from the prying eyes of its citizens, the demons, and my damned brother, I couldn't deny the city's beauty. From my perch atop the cathedral - that would have made Dante crack another one of those stupid bird jokes - the city lay before me dusted with snow. Remnants of destruction marred the picturesque view. The structures that had survived were unchanged from how I recalled them from years before during my brief visit to the island.

I hated looking at it.

During my stay, I hadn't bothered to explore much of the city. I didn't want to draw that much attention, and I didn't care about the place beyond their information on Sparda. But now, every street, every building - it was all familiar. It was all important. I could picture what it looked like down each blind alley blocked from my view. I knew the inside of both the bar and the school, though I'd never been in either.

And yet I could remember setting foot in both of them. The memories of the school were all so bitter that they began to fester like a wound before I even began to consider them. The bar was comfortable, though. Warm and quiet. I was handed a drink, and someone smiled as I gagged against the taste. The air hummed with some vague mix of jazz songs. A hand pressed to my shoulder.

But that wasn't me. I hadn't even been conscious or aware at the time. None of it made sense, but I could remember names and faces of people I'd never met, never seen.

Credo was the worst of them. My only exposure to him had been in listening to Nero speak to him after I regained my hearing. I had been there in that stinging moment of betrayal and later, when he fell. Though I hadn't seen it happen, I could remember the whole scene clearly, a frantic storm of anguish that ripped my reason to shreds. Even now, the pain was still fresh. I had failed him. I had been too weak, and I had let him fall. My chest felt weighted yet empty with agony at the memory.

But that wasn't me! My hand clutched at my head as I struggled to unravel my thoughts from the boy's. He was like an infection, a parasite invading my every thought. I was supposed to be the stronger of the two of us. I was supposed to be able to down him out.

Even while unconscious, he was still obnoxiously stubborn. After I'd gained control, he'd spent so long trying to fight me off, a wasted effort. He would fight for use of a limb, an ear, or an eye, though I never let him have the latter. I found it to be more annoying than a real hindrance. But, just to quiet him down, I allowed him control long enough to drain the last of his energy. In that time, he saw how weak he was, and he got to say his goodbyes. I thought that was fair enough.

Some part of him must have disagreed because he was still troubling me. Hissing a sigh through clenched teeth, I did what I never imagined I would consider. I gave him something back.

"I need to speak with you," I said, the left ear once again deadened to me. "I know you can hear me, so speak."

"Wh...what?" His response was both whispered and slurred, near incoherent even as it came from my own lips.

"I've given you an ear and am varying control between our mouth. Makes for a simpler conversation than having to write, I think."

I had to allow him a minute to relearn how to speak and breathe, my lungs staggering against his harsh gasps. I had been the same upon first gaining control. It had been so long since I'd felt anything that having every sense hit me at once was overwhelming, but as he spoke, it became apparent that he was the opposite. "I can't… I can't see anything. I can't feel anything… There's nothing. This isn't right. What's going on? Where am I? Where am I!? Fuck, fu-"

"Very well, calm down," I said, snapping control away. He had my pulse hammering from his frantic thoughts. Even without hearing him speak further, I could feel his panic in the back of my mind. He wasn't used to the sensory deprivation yet.

As I relinquished the sight of my left eye once again, my vision on that side went out like a lightbulb. Darkness flashed in.

"There, that should give you some sight to stabilize yourself, though you'll still be following where I choose to look. Now are you up to talk?"

"Fuck you!"

I'd forgotten whom I was dealing with. "Lines like that become odd when we're in the same body, you know." I could sense a scathing response from him, so I chose not to let him speak yet. "I woke you so that we could talk. Refuse to cooperate if you wish. I'll just put you back to sleep in that case."

"You say that like you won't do the same thing even if I do cooperate." His tone was more exhausted than biting, as though he could no longer find the energy to summon his usual defense - anger.

"You're right," I said. "I suppose the end result is the same, but I will allow this opportunity for you to ask further questions. It's only fair."

He must not have agreed because I felt his snarl twisting my expression. "You going to tell me what the hell your problem is?"

"We would be here all day if I tried to tackle such a subject."

"Is… is that a joke?"

"That depends on whether a joke needs to be humorous or farcical."

He heaved a sigh. "Listening to you talk gets old fast. You're even worse than you were on paper. Get to the point. What do you want?"

In truth, that was a good question. I wasn't certain what I wanted from him. I wanted a great many things, none that he could provide. "Nero," I began with hesitation. "Do you feel like you have any memories that aren't yours?"

For several seconds, he said nothing. In silence, we watched the cityscape together with the same set of eyes. Another strike of pain hit my chest, some poisonous mix of fear, anger, and adoration. These I knew to be his feelings, not mine, but I felt them all the same. For some bizarre reason, he cared for that damned city, and seeing it from a distance distressed him.

"I… don't think so," he said finally, "but I think I was dreaming. Weird dreams. Did you dream when you were like that?"

"No, not really." Hearing his voice and others in the distance had felt like a dream at times. Without any access to my hearing, he shouldn't have had that. He may have truly been dreaming.

"Who are you?" he asked. A strange question, accusatory almost.

"I told you my name."

"Yeah, whatever, _Black_." He bit out the odd nickname as if it were an insult. Unfortunately for him, I didn't hate it. I could have left things at that, but I'd promised to answer his questions in return.

"Strange that Dante never mentioned me," I said. "I wonder if he ever does. Well, I suppose there was that one instance. He told you he had a brother." He'd said it without any malice or discontent. A simple fact - "It belonged to my brother." The pain in my chest was my own this time, but I couldn't understand why. It wasn't as though I should have expected anything of Dante, and it had been so long since he had seen me, so long since he'd thought me dead.

He had no reason to care about me.

It was clear that he cared about the boy. That was the only reason I wasn't dead yet. Dante wanted Nero safe. If not for me possessing Nero's body, Dante surely would have struck me down long ago. All we'd ever shared was blood and the troubles I'd placed on his shoulders.

"Are you saying you actually are Dante's brother?" Nero drawled.

His wording was a bit odd, but I did not dwell on it. "That is correct."

"Well, I guess this is officially the most awkward thing possible. For the record, I fucking hate you."

Though he couldn't see or feel it, I shrugged. "I will let you know when I care."

"Oh, and you're just as infuriating as your brother too." He smiled as though bearing his teeth. "Fantastic."

"Impossible. No one is as infuriating as Dante."

"You're really gunning for the top spot, though."

The corner of my lips tugged toward a smile before I could stop it. "I do my best," I said. "Nero, I have another question."

"Can I have an arm or something first? Not being able to move is driving me crazy."

"If I gave it to you, you would hit me."

"I would hit _me_ , asshole." Unlike Dante, Nero seemed prepared to tear himself to pieces if it meant harming me.

"Being self-destructive does you little good," I said. "A little pain is nothing to me, and you will upset Kyrie." And Dante.

"Don't you say her name!"

"Fine. The girl, then." Like that was any better.

His demonic blood became apparent as he growled through gritted teeth. To keep him from trying to bite off my tongue, I allowed him access to move his left pointer finger. Distracted, he flicked it up and down, tapping it against Yamato's sheath.

"You carry Yamato?" he asked.

I couldn't contain my surprise, my brows raising as I looked down to bring the sword into his view for the first time. "You could tell it was Yamato? Just like that?"

"Sure. Couldn't you? I don't know any other sword that makes my skin crawl like that bastard."

"My sword is not a 'bastard,'" I muttered before leveling my voice again. "You haven't been around many devil arms. They're all like that."

"They're all bastards?"

He was smirking with my mouth, smirking like my damn brother. I took control back to put an end to that. "My question, then, Nero," I reminded him.

"What?"

"Tell me why you care about this island." Because I was sick of feeling any affection for it. No sane man would care about the wretched place. The foolish cultists infested it just like the demons, and I'd heard enough to know that they held no love for their true savior. Most had not taken kindly to Nero demolishing their false god. Fortuna was a mess of ruins and graves. The shine should have worn off long ago for Nero.

"Fortuna is just Fortuna," he said. I had a strange desire to paw at my nose, but I suppressed it. "I live here, and so does Kyrie. Not like I care. I just have to keep the place clean."

"You're lying." I could feel it in my gut. He couldn't lie to me. "You care for this hellhole, not just the girl but the city, the docks, the forest, and even that broken Order building that's crumbling into the sea. You care, and I can't fathom why."

He paused, swallowing hard. I expected him to deny it or demand to know how I knew that. My blind left eye twitched with a growing discomfort, so I relinquished my control of our gaze to him. Our eyes flicked to the stone below, and I felt my chest grow tight. A memory played along the shattered fountain, children splashing barefoot in the water on a hot day. A man and woman had dragged them out kicking and whining.

Our eyes tore from it to the direction of his house, blocked from view at such a distance. Being inside it had always held an air of remorse. Silence seemed to press in from the pictures on the walls.

It had been home for him once, but it was not any longer. I had been able to hear one night when Nero sat in silence on the couch and Kyrie cried against his shoulder. Neither had said a word, but I had shut myself out to avoid listening regardless. It seemed rude to eavesdrop, and the quiet had been far too visceral, as though it could cut through flesh and bone.

"I don't know either," Nero said, voice thin as paper. "I don't know why I care. I guess… I swore I would protect the place. That's part of the oath of the Holy Knights. Are you… going to make me leave?"

"Of course," I said. "I have no reason to stay here. Besides, I'd be better off in a place where no one knows your face. Unless Dante has his way, I will leave as soon as possible."

Nero took a deep, slow breath, letting it out as a quiet sigh. "Dante won't stop you," he said.

"You think not? He did promise you that he would end your life if you lost control completely."

Nero laughed, bitter and void of any humor. "No, Dante wouldn't want to kill you. You're his brother. I'm just some kid he met."

"He's killed me before."

"He wouldn't want to do it again."

"You presume to know too much about my brother." Dante was not as flippant as he appeared. I'd heard enough of how he talked to the boy to know that. As for how he felt about me, I had sacrificed any ties to familial love long ago. I didn't care to think about it, so I turned the accusations back on Nero. "Are you so resigned to death now? I thought you were going to fight me."

"Yeah, I'll take you out with half my sight, one finger, and a few scathing words." Again, his voice lacked any humor. "I'll find something. I'm sure I will. Just give me some time." He tried to lace venom into his words, but I could feel the plea beneath it. "Black, just… Don't you dare hurt anyone. Leave my island alone. There's enough shit going on right now that's putting everyone in danger, and without me… I swear, I will fucking end you the moment you spill a drop of blood."

"I believe you," I said with a nod. "I suppose, given the circumstances, I can offer you one last favor."

"Not killing people isn't a favor!"

That wasn't what I meant, but I doubted my ability to talk him down with his anger flaring back up. "Rest well, Nero," I said. "I will take care of things for you."

He slipped away like a voice lost in the breeze. My mind eased from the added pressure of his presence, and while a sliver of his anger still burned in my chest, it was nowhere near the searing rage from moments before. My left eye returned to me along with my finger.

Giving him a taste of consciousness only to steal it away may have been crueler than just letting him sleep. I wouldn't wish to make him suffer like that. I'd been trying to avoid it.

That thought came as an intrusion, like a bullet cracking against my skull. It was far from the first time it appeared, but that didn't make it any less troubling. My brow pinched enough to threaten a headache as I slipped down along the adjacent roofs, recalling how I'd tried to bandage the boy's wounds one night before control had slipped away. I'd tried to get the idiot to actually eat something as well. Bread was the first thing I found in the kitchen when I brushed past Kyrie, so I'd grabbed that, but the moment I sat down, he'd woken up.

But I assured myself that wasn't for his sake as much as my own. If I'd left him to his devices, he would have destroyed the body I needed. If he felt some pain from wounds I'd gained from relearning to fight, it didn't matter to me. Besides, he could handle what little pain he did receive. I'd split the sense between the two of us so that I could know when I took damage. Of course, with his pain lessened, he became more reckless.

He was so damn difficult. Only an idiot would put that much spice on his food. The idea of red pepper still made me ill, and I didn't even want to think about the strawberries. Honestly, it was a wonder I'd managed to keep us alive at all.

But, then again, he would not have been in such a state in the first place if not for me.

Not that it mattered. The form was mine now. He was no longer conscious of anything, and he would not be again. I had given him enough time and done enough for him.

I shouldn't have promised him another favor, but what was done was done. The practice that came with it would be useful if nothing else.

When the buildings grew thin at the city's edge, I dropped to ground level. My left leg staggered under my weight enough that I had to stumble a few steps forward to regain my balance. "Dammit," I grumbled, glaring at my feet to ensure that they would behave. Relearning how to walk had been a humiliating process, and my left side had given me trouble since I'd gained full control.

I wouldn't have minded as much if no one had seen my mistake. Until I managed to get off the island, it seemed privacy was going to be a rare luxury. How annoying.

Sliding my troublesome left foot back, I turned to the side to let the knife fly by, quiet as a whisper as it cut the air. "That one would have hit near my spine," I said, "near my heart. Not a strong enough throw to do any real damage, but it's an improvement."

Kyrie's eyes were darkened, a cloud of hatred covering her fears. She stood at the corner of the street as though she'd just turned it to find me there. With how conspicuous I'd been on the roofs, she may have followed me. Another knife lay in her practiced grip. "I won't kill you, Black," she said, "but I will stop you. Give Nero back."

Unlike Dante, she was never uncertain about whether Nero or I had control. And, unlike Dante, her tone held no trace of uncertainty. It was nice to see someone determined for once. Though I considered correcting her on my name, I still couldn't help but find it amusing that she'd given me a nickname in the first place. I spared her from a smile, not wanting her to think I was mocking her.

"You're still not willing to kill me?" I asked, my tone plain with honest curiosity. I couldn't help but wonder if she heard the boy's voice when I spoke, or if we sounded different.

"I just want Nero back," she said. "You know I can't kill you."

"But I could kill you." It was a fact, not a threat. I had no need to harm her.

My words did not frighten her. If anything, her visage set deeper in determination, and she whipped the second knife toward me hard enough that it could have dug between my ribs and deep into my lung. I could have sidestepped that one as well without any trouble, but I drew Yamato and slashed the knife away in one quick motion. If she wished to face me as an opponent, then I would allow her my full attention.

That was a mistake. The wolves had circled in close without my knowledge.

A volley of shots rang in my ears as I twisted Yamato up to catch the bullets. They were small in caliber with deadly accuracy. Had I been any slower, I would have lost an eye at the least. At the edge of my vision, the bright white of Kyrie's dress disappeared behind a flash of black. A louder splatter of bullets filled the air from that side as well. The sound of the twin guns was far too familiar for my liking. All this noise was going to draw some unwanted attention.

Trapped between the two of them, I had poor odds. Cutting down what bullets I could, I warped back from the rest to give myself more distance from the assault. Once again, my leg cut out from under me when I dropped to my feet, but it was my right this time. The warmth of my blood seeping into the white uniform showed why. The wound healed just as fast as it appeared, a problem I felt as soon as I tried to press weight back on the leg against another hail of gunfire. I felt as though my leg might shatter under me. The bullet was stuck in my shattered femur.

They reloaded too damn quickly, leaving me no room to breathe. I sent a flurry of summon swords back just to scatter them and give myself time to wrench Yamato into the sealed wound, cleaving the bullet out. Pain - true pain - was new to me again. I hadn't felt it in years, and I couldn't keep the agony from twisting my expression. A cold sweat seared across my skin, and my breaths came quick.

I was so weak.

"Wait!" Kyrie cried, the sound of her heels on the pavement silencing the gunfire. "You'll kill him!" The foolish girl stood between me and the guns. Though I was certain they could have continued firing around her, they paused for her sake.

"Kyrie, that's not Nero anymore," the blonde demon said, her voice as gentle as it was firm. "This is all we can do now." I could recall her, though I didn't care to. She wore my mother's face and carried my father's guns. She had no right to her own name.

Standing across the street, the other one, who looked as though she would never be happy until I was riddled with bullet holes, I knew to be Mary. I'd heard that name enough that I couldn't have forgotten it if I'd wanted to.

They may have been the last two people I would have wanted to face in such a state.

Kyrie's voice faded as though lost to a gale. "What do you mean?"

"Let's postpone this fight," I said as I flicked the blood from Yamato. I sheathed it as well as a show of honesty, but I could have drawn it in an instant. "You don't want the girl in the middle of this."

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," the demon said. Her sweet tone vanished in favor of a more honest venom.

"Dante might let you off, but you're not getting away from us," Mary snarled.

"What?" Kyrie attempted again. It sounded like they hadn't told her anything, yet they acted as though I was the cruel one.

"Did you two take care of the issue in the forest?" I asked.

"Dealt with a fuck-ton of demons, but I'd say the real issue is still here," Mary said, tilting her gunsights nearer to my head.

"That's a no then." I crossed my arms. "I was having trouble finding the source as well."

"Stop trying to distract us," the demon said. "That's a pretty low tactic for you."

I wasn't trying to distract them. I was trying to get information, but if I were to allow the fight to carry on, Kyrie could get hurt.

Another worry that was not my own. Sighing, I rubbed my hand across my forehead to calm my swirling thoughts. No matter how dormant Nero might have been, I felt certain that everything would fall apart on me if any harm befell the girl.

I may not have owed Nero anything, but at the very least, I would not contribute to him losing anything else he cared about. I would not stand idle and let them fall. Not again.

"So you are set on killing me then?" I asked the women.

Mary nodded without a flicker of hesitation.

"If the only way Nero can be free of this is death, then that's what we'll give him," the demon said.

Kyrie's eyes were wide yet hollowed with fear. "You can't," she said. "No, you can't. You were supposed to get him back. I can't… I can't lose him too."

Neither of them could face her, too busy staring me down, but I saw them both flinch against her words. "Very well," I said. "We'll have this fight to the death at a later time when the girl is not involved. I have something I must attend to first. If you would look after her for a moment…"

They both began demanding that I stay put so they could shoot me or whatever. I wasn't listening, and it was hard to hear around the roar in my ears as I tested the Bringer's power. The distant, ghostly image of the arm came to me as easily as my summon swords and though metal screamed and stone cracked, I felt no strain in tearing a lamp post from the ground and tossing it toward the three of them.

It wouldn't have touched Kyrie, but the women both rushed towards her anyway. Mary was still quick to fire a few more rounds at me, but I warped myself away and headed for the forest.

I could kill them later. I had a job to complete first.

But even as I slipped into the dense trees, I could feel that I wasn't free of trouble yet. Another presence of harsh footfalls crashing through twigs and leaves chased me. He always felt like fire at my back, a blaze I could never truly outrun.

In a way, though, it felt nice to have him follow me once again, even if it wasn't really me he was chasing in the end.


	12. Sunset

**How many sad brothers can I fit in one fic?**

* * *

Dante had never been the faster of the two of us. Even when we were children, I'd always been able to outrun him. As his presence neared mine in our dash through the forest, I debated warping ahead as I had during all our other chases. Having shorter, stumbling legs in my new body put me at a disadvantage. I could no longer outrun him.

In the end, perhaps it didn't matter. No matter how far or fast I'd ever run, Dante had always caught up given time. This was no exception, though I could have done without him slamming all his weight against my back and knocking me face-first into the ground. His triumphant laugh sent a few birds darting out of the trees above as I spat dirt out from between my teeth. "Gotcha!" he chirped through panting breaths. Both of his knees crushed my back, and his hands pinned my shoulders. "I'm getting too old to do that much sprinting, you know? But it turns out, coffee helps a lot. A lot. I have not had this much coffee in a long time. Wow." A laugh broke through his rambling string of words. "I'm so fucking psyched to kill some demons! I feel like I'm going to vibrate out of my skin."

"You've had too much caffeine," I said, glaring up at him from the corner of my vision to see his eyes wide like a child having a sugar rush. "Now get off of me before I send another sword through your heart."

"Aw, be nice, Verge."

"I refuse."

"Alright, but if I let you up, you have to promise you won't run off again."

"Very well. You have my word." I hadn't planned on running anyway. I saw no point to it.

As Dante hopped to his feet, he dragged me up alongside him. "Wow, you're a mess," he said. Heavy hands dusted at the new dark smear of dirt that he'd caused over the front of my uniform.

"Yes, unfortunate," I hissed. He didn't seem to mind my glare. "But I suppose it was already ruined."

Dante nodded. "That's a lot of blood. I knew I heard a scuffle, but I wouldn't have expected you to be the one to come out looking worse for it."

I hadn't bothered to inspect my wound before, not having the time to do so. Looking down at my mended leg, I found blood soaked into the fabric down past my knee. The deep red stain had connected between the back and front and formed a ring. "It looks worse than it was," I said. "Just a single bullet. The women are fine if you care to know. I didn't bother fighting them."

"Oh, I know." He flashed a blinding smile. "If you had managed to do any harm to either of them, you would have ended up a lot worse off than just one bullet wound."

"You shouldn't have brought them."

"I wouldn't have if I'd known what I was dealing with." He tried to poke at my chest, but I stepped back out of range. His eyes flicked over me before the hyper glaze eased from them, and his tone slowed. "What are you doing back out here anyway? More practice?"

Crossing my arms, I shrugged. I could think of no reason to lie. "I'm going to quell this influx of demons. They must be spawning from somewhere, perhaps another gate."

"Unless they got another crazy scientist to make a new one, I definitely got rid of all of those. Besides, the forest looks pretty normal now. Last time there was a gate here, it was all tropics." He blinked, his brow furrowing. "Like a normal island."

"Are these normal as well?" I asked, sweeping my hand toward the ground. I had noticed the odd rocks early in my trips to the forest. Any attempts I'd made to investigate had been cut short by demons or Nero regaining control. The number of rocks seemed to grow like an infection the deeper I tread, more and more littering the ground. "I believe finding where they're the densest may be the key to this issue."

Humming, Dante plucked a stone from the ground and held it up to the light filtering down between the trees. "You think they're demonic? I don't see anything too weird about them. Just seems like a bunch of busted-up rocks."

"But if they're broken pieces, they must have been part of something once."

" _And_ it's our only lead," Dante said with a smile.

I couldn't deny that. Despite all my time wandering in the woods, that was all I'd been able to find. I couldn't even say where I'd searched before because all of it looked so similar. Dante must have thought the same. As I headed off in the direction of the scattered rocks, he was quick to follow and start his usual whining.

"I swear it was easier to navigate this place when it got turned into a weird demonic jungle, and that version had some stupid maze puzzle that took me like an hour to figure out. What's up with demons and puzzles?"

"They're not all idiots like you, Dante."

"Just because something is true, doesn't mean you have to say it."

I couldn't hide a smile at his feigned offense, so I turned my face away. Talking with him felt far too comfortable. We might as well have had a script for how easily it all came back to me. He'd changed much over the years, but he was still Dante.

An errant thought latched into my mind, and I couldn't stop myself from wondering if there ever could have been a world where this was normal - Dante and I walking side by side in search of some demonic trouble. It was impossible, I knew. I'd put an end to any chance by my own hand, but that was our fate. No world could have ever existed with a different outcome. It was too painful to think otherwise.

"What is your plan now?" I asked, seeking to distract myself. "Surely you're not going to keep up this friendly act."

His answer was a laugh that tapered off as though he couldn't breathe. "I don't know. I don't have a plan." Desperation bled into his eyes. I could remember that look, that broken attempt at a smile. All those years ago in the tower, I'd seen it creep into his expression as the night wore on.

"It's like I'm playing Russian Roulette with all the chambers loaded," he continued. "I can't win."

I was fairly certain it would just be called suicide at that point, no roulette about it. If he thought he couldn't win anymore, he must have given up all hope of getting Nero back. That was odd for my brother. He'd always been far too stubborn to give up on anything, even me for a time.

"Do you plan to kill me then?" I asked.

His sigh sounded almost like a sob. "That is what I promised."

I found it to be an odd answer, perhaps not even an answer at all, but I let the conversation drop. Sooner or later, we would fight again. Whether that fight would be to the death, I couldn't say. It was up to Dante.

The growing swarm of rocks led us to the ruins of an old fountain and what I assumed to be a building. Little of it was visible beneath the tangle of roots and thorny vines that had grown up around its walls. "I don't think it was like that last time I was here," Dante muttered.

"If something is being hidden, I'm going to bet on it being in there," I said.

My brother had never been one for stealth or forethought, and that had not changed over the years. My belief was enough for him to slash his way through the blockade of vines that clogged what must have been a doorway at one time. The vines curled from his sword as though recoiling, and Dante darted through the gap. Before I could follow, the wounded vines sprouted anew. Like a hydra, they doubled in number in an attempt to bar me from entrance, or perhaps to lock Dante in.

"Hey, that's not nice," I heard him call.

Rushing into such a snare was a bad idea, but I couldn't leave Dante to whatever horrible death awaited him. I had Yamato back in its sheath before the vines began to fall away from the fresh cuts. Once I rushed after Dante, the entrance sealed again, and I realized the issue. The plants formed a seamless cavern. Not one shred of light came through. I could sense danger, but I could see nothing except the warning glow of the Bringer's hand.

Rolling the sleeve of my coat up, the pale glow washed over the room. Dozens of soulless eyes reflected in the light.

"Oh, there you are," Dante said to me with a grin. Rebellion rested on his shoulder, and fragments of a demon lay at his feet. "Thanks for the light. Have you considered taking that thing to a party? I bet it would be fun."

"Do you ever say anything worthwhile, or do you just reuse all the same lines?"

"Hey, if it ain't broke-"

With a gurgling cry, another demon leaped for him, and its brethren answered with their own ragged screeches. Whatever the things were, they coated the walls like roaches and were just as easy to crush. A swarm simply made them easier targets. They came apart with ease. Limbs twitched on the ground around me with every slash. I didn't need to take a single step to take care of them, yet I could see Dante leaping around in the corners of my vision. His eager laugh played along to the sound of rending bones.

"You're going to wear yourself out over these weaklings," I said.

"There's no point in fighting the little ones if you don't have some fun with it!" One of the demons flew over my head and splattered against the wall. "Bet that would have gone a good hundred yards if we'd been outside."

"No, it would have hit a tree."

"Aw, stop being realistic."

When the last of them demons ceased its struggles, I raised the Bringer once more to scan the room. Without the demons there, I found the walls covered in pods of varying sizes instead. "Oh gross," Dante said. "Must be some type of breeding ground."

"But only for one type of demon, it would seem, likely the weak ones we fought. I've seen several others around Fortuna... and I have a feeling they're coming from that instead." I turned my arm toward the wall that held no plants or pods. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't a wall at all. The massive stone slab sat in front of the wall. It must have been fragmented at one time because shimmering slivers of gold held together jagged pieces like the ones that had littered the ground outside.

"Well, damn, it is a Hell Gate," Dante said. "Actually…" He pointed to the center, where two pieces came together into something of a heart shape. "Hey, I made those."

I didn't want to know. "Then it's made of pieces of the gates you destroyed?"

"Looks like it. Huh. I didn't know gates could be reformed. That sucks." He didn't sound too put out about it.

I was more concerned about who or what had reformed the gate. "The demons we've seen wouldn't be smart enough to manage something like this on their own. There must be some sort of mastermind."

"I'm sure if I break it into smaller pieces this time, it won't be a problem." Dante leveled his sword at the structure, and before I could tell him that would only combat half the problem, a thin vine shot from the wall and wrapped around his arm.

As I tried to take a step toward him, a piercing pain tore through my leg. One of the vines had grabbed hold of me as well, and still more snaked in toward us. Even as I looked down, I felt the bite of thorns against my arm. Their grip was so tight that my muscles and bones began to ache against the pressure. The vines seemed to be trying to tear us to pieces like some medieval torture device.

"I would almost be into it if not for the thorns," Dante said, his eye twitching.

"Must you?" I snarled.

"Of course I must." Pain marred his smile, and the air pulsed with power as he reached for his Trigger. Likewise, I aimed to use my Summoned Swords, but a crushing weight around my neck shattered the thought. Warmth seeped down the collar of my coat as the thorns sank into my throat. This form was far too fragile, far too weak. Black melted into my vision as my heart beat in a frantic desire for air that would not come. My thoughts raced alongside my pulse even though I knew exactly what to do. I just needed to shake all the damn adrenaline. Back in my own form, my demonic blood must have blocked the worst of it out. It was no wonder humans were so quick to freeze in the face of fear when their bodies worked against them.

"Are you dying?"

My mind ground to a halt. The voice was distant, toneless like a whisper, yet I heard it clearly.

Impossible. He shouldn't have been awake.

"You keep saying that," Nero continued, "but I don't know what you mean. I'm sort of always awake."

He could hear my thoughts. That was new.

"Kind of?" he answered as though I'd asked a question. "It's all over the place but so damn loud. Are you seriously dying?"

 _I am not_ , I attempted in response. _I have this under control. And isn't dying what you wanted anyway? Or were you that keen on having Dante be the one to do it?_ Either way, I would not allow it. With the taste of blood filling my mouth, a Trigger would come with ease to combat the damage. But Nero spoke again before I summoned it.

"Give me an eye and my right arm."

I had no reason to. No reason but curiosity. So I gave him what he asked. With a quick flick of our eyes, he assessed the situation and dragged the Bringer forward against the hold of the vines. The one around my neck pressed in tighter, but Nero shot out a phantom hand to snap the vine holding Dante's arm and the sword trapped along with it.

Dante looked worse off than I must have, vines piercing his chest and soaked with his blood. But as soon as he was able to cut himself free, frantic eyes snapped my way. "Vergil!" he gasped between wet, hacking breaths. "Hang on."

Hearing him call my name left me more troubled than the pain. He shouldn't have been calling for me, and I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"That was your name, wasn't it? Vergil?" Nero said, distant voice even softer than before.

For a moment, I wondered how he'd known. I hadn't let him hear. But he could see. He could read the name on Dante's lips.

Rebellion was quick to eat through the vines around me. The crushing weight against my throat let up, and I drew in a ragged, agonizing gasp of air. It felt as though I'd swallowed needles.

Before I could hope to find my feet, Dante's arm looped around my gut and dragged me back toward the entrance we'd used. "Let's come back later, alright?" he said with a thin, nervous laugh.

As much as I hated running, it was wise to heal and face the thing from another angle. I didn't have much of a choice in the matter anyway, as Dante carried me along like a child with a toy. Being smaller than him had several disadvantages.

With some silent assistance from Nero wielding Yamato, Dante cut down any prying vines and tore through those blocking the exit once again. He kept running until we were well behind the tree line. I would have demanded to be put down, but my breaths were still far too thin and clouded with blood to form any words. Though I was allowed my feet, Dante's hands snapped to my shoulders. Anxious eyes searched me up and down. He must have feared damage to the boy's body.

"He was worried about you," Nero said. He sounded...tired, resigned perhaps. But he was wrong. I was certain of it.

Dante's hand hovered over the wound on my neck, his brow pinched. "For a moment, I thought that damn thing was going to cut down to your spine," he said with a twitching smile. "Looked pretty ugly, but it's healing fine."

A painful weight settled in my chest as Nero's voice faded to a breath. "I guess I can't blame him. I'd want my brother back too. He was right… It wasn't fair of me to ask that."

 _You're wrong._ My thoughts turned frantic once again as his dread seeped into me. _You don't understand. It's not like that._

But his emotions were agony, and I didn't want to feel them anymore.

I didn't want him to see anymore. I'd never wanted him to suffer. He was supposed to be asleep, hidden away from everything and safe. I was supposed to protect him. I…

No, wasn't protecting him from anything. I was only using him. The thought shouldn't have ever occurred to me. But... before all of this, from the beginning, I had protected him in a way. Always for my sake, not his. But I had always looked after him.

Now, I was failing him.

All I could do was shut him out and hope that he found rest this time.

"Are you alright?" Dante asked. I must have looked troubled based on the way his eyes continued to search me.

"Why did you save me?" My voice was still hoarse, my wounds all stinging, but I could speak again at least.

Dante's answer should have been simple. He was supposed to say that he did it for Nero; instead, he paled. His mouth hung open as he searched for an answer before he gave in with a sigh. His shoulders dropped. "I can't watch you die again, Vergil."

That wasn't the right answer. It couldn't have been. "You promised him-"

"I know what I promised! Goddammit!" His fist connected solidly with the tree at his side, the wood splintering. "But I can't do this again. Do you know how much it hurt? Knowing that I killed you? Knowing that if I'd been able to catch you, that none of this would have-" A bead of blood welled up as he sank his teeth into his lower lip.

"There was nothing you could have done." That was the truth, not a consolation, just the truth. After everything I'd done, Dante was not supposed to care. I should have been nothing to him. Nothing he said made sense, but Dante had always been that way - far too emotional to think rationally.

"Maybe not," he said, "but I'd replay it all in my head over and over, thinking of what else I could have done."

"I chose my fate. You don't get to take the blame for my mistakes."

His smile was worn down by years of anguish. "Oh, it's way too late for that. And now, here you are again. Another chance for me to fuck up. If you live, Nero gets smothered. If he somehow gets control back, you're gone, and if I kill you again, you both die. In any choice, I lose someone." He breathed a laugh and brought up his hand in a mock gun to the side of his head. "Take a spin. Every chamber's loaded."

Suicide, not a roulette.

"I don't know why you would care about me," I admitted. "But if it hadn't been Nero's form I stole or if you hadn't known him, would you have been happy to see me?" I had asked the question before without getting a straight response. Now, I could tell that Dante was far too tired and far too open to hide the truth.

"You know… part of me is happy to see you anyway." Guilt weighed heavy in his eyes. "I wish it could have been under different circumstances. I wish I could have actually seen you as you again."

Instead of smug affirmation or twisted joy, all I could feel was relief that Nero was deaf to all of this. "Sorry," I said to someone.

Dante didn't seem prepared to respond to that, so he shrugged and leaned against the wounded tree at his side. "I'm dead tired. I guess the coffee wore off."

"Yes, I suppose we haven't slept well lately." My body must have been rebelling the ill-treatment because my wounds still stung. Dante rubbed at the ones in his chest as well, which wasn't a good sign. Rolling up the tattered, blood-flecked sleeve of my left arm, I found the long, thin bruises laced with burning red pierce marks. "Oh," I drawled. "They're infected. Probably a poison."

"Oh, damn." Dante barked a more genuine laugh. "Looks like our demon blood saved us dumbasses again."

"Do not lump me in with you."

"Hey, you didn't notice either."

"I am the one who just noticed!"

Still looking far too smug, he stretched his arms out over his head. "I for one think we should say fuck it to this for tonight," he said through a yawn. "Let's sleep off all the weird poison and come back and do some weed control in the morning."

I was far too tired to find any argument. "Fine, but we're not sleeping out here, and I am not going back into that damn city of women who want me dead."

"Did you have somewhere else in mind? Wait! Let me guess. You want to go hang out in the nice beachfront headquarters that's trying to turn into an underwater getaway."

Perhaps I was becoming too predictable, but our options were limited. Though the castle would have been more comfortable, I had no interest in climbing through all that snow. "Weren't you the one who destroyed the headquarters?" I asked.

His hands flashed up in mock-surrender. "I take no responsibility for that."

Before we could leave the cursed forest, he insisted that he needed to go retrieve a bag. "Too annoying to carry while chasing you, so I just dropped it," he said. "But there are some vital stars in there." As much as I did not care, I trailed after him to find the bag, too exhausted to focus on anything but walking.

We both earned a vital star for our troubles, which did take the searing edge off the wound on my neck, but I also noticed something else in Dante's bag. "Is that Cerberus?" I asked, my voice flat. If he'd been carrying it when we faced the vines, they would have been no trouble.

"Yeah, I was thinking about using him to keep you from getting away before, but I didn't want to give the kid frostbite while his healing sucked, you know? Also, you kept running off too quickly."

"You left a powerful Devil's Arm just lying around?"

He shrugged. "I got him back."

"I'm amazed you've managed to keep any Devil's Arm for more than a few minutes with how careless you are with all of them."

"Hey, I seem to remember someone else losing Yamato."

I had no comeback for that, so I started toward the remnants of the Order's headquarters with Dante rushing at my heels and telling me not to run off again.

Through the wreckage, I brought us back to the library once again. We had made a mess of it last time, but most of the chairs had survived. I settled down in one, my feet in another, as Dante dragged a chair closer to my space for some reason.

"What's your fascination with this place anyway?" he asked.

"It's quiet." Tilting my head back, I looked at the fragments of sky visible through the damaged ceiling. The library was quiet, but the rest was loud. Far too many memories were locked in the crumbling structure, some painful, some comforting. "But it feels safe here," I said.

"Really? It feels like I'm about to get crushed under several tons of rock."

I should have said something to discourage Dante placing his chair right beside mine, but as night settled in, the air became cold enough that I could see my breath. I couldn't even oppose Dante kicking his feet into the same chair as I had. I was far too tired, and he was far too stubborn. Sleep came effortlessly.

I roused a fraction to find my temple resting against his shoulder as he settled his cheek against the top of my head. He took a deep, shaking breath that left him in a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Nero."

* * *

I couldn't remember the last time I'd dreamed, and I'd never been aware of my dreams. They came now in fragments of memories, flashes that I didn't always recognize. It was like a slide projector flipping between images far too quickly until it came to a sudden halt.

I could recognize this memory as my own. Shadows blotted out some walls and pictures that I could not quite recall, but I knew my childhood home. I found myself at the top of the stairs. Somewhere in the distance, a child counted loudly. Another must have been hiding. I couldn't say which of us was which.

I didn't belong there, not anymore. Within the dream, my form was the one I had lost, down to my old blue coat. Sitting on the top step near me was another boy who did not belong. And like me, he wore clothes that had been ruined some time ago. Seeing the mismatched jacket that I had reduced to tatters made me sigh. I still felt bad about that one. He must have liked it.

"Is it actually you?" Nero asked, tired eyes flicking over me as he rested his chin in his palm. "Or are you part of this dream now?"

"It's really me. I'm not so certain that this is a dream. At least, not the usual sort."

He made no move to fight me as I sat down on the step as well. No anger burned in his eyes. I could find only weariness in his features. "I like this dream more than the others, though," he said. "The others are more like nightmares."

I flinched against his words. "It seems you're experiencing my memories."

"Yeah, I thought so." He nodded, expression unchanged. "Can't say I'm too thrilled about it."

"Me either."

A few beats of silence passed between us as I tried to understand why any of this was happening. When he had been the one in full control, I had never been in such a state. I'd been asleep. There had been nothing but the sounds in the distance.

Nero's voice cut through my thoughts. "It's strange, you know, being the one who falls. I think I know how Dante feels, so I guess..." He stared at the palm of his Bringer.

Realization hit me like a knife to the chest. He'd seen me throw myself into Hell. No, he'd fallen with me. He'd seen far too much.

"I couldn't catch him either," Nero sighed, pressing his face into his hand.

Oh.

Of course.

He had watched Credo fall. I could feel his pain once again, still as great as that moment of agony when he had reached out for the man he saw as his brother. Nero understood what Dante felt, and suddenly, I did as well.

I had left my brother with that pain. Perhaps that was why he caught Credo in Nero's place.

I could no longer find any words to tell Nero that I didn't matter to Dante. He knew better.

"How long have you seen dreams like this?" I asked instead, hoping for some way to free him.

"I think it was after you really took over for the first time, after we talked, I guess. I was trying to get control back, and everything was so jumbled, but I kept seeing things." He shook his head, eyes shut tight. "And I know there's a way back. I can find it sometimes, but it always slips away. I just have to find it again."

"It's because you're still fighting," I realized. Some piece of him was still conscious, still refusing to give in. Since he'd learned the truth, he'd been too stubborn to fall unconscious as I'd intended. "I didn't dream like this, but I do feel your memories at times... when they're strong. I think it's because my mind is the dominant one between us, so you become lost within my thoughts."

His laugh was more like a cough. "I thought this was supposed to be my body. What a backward deal."

"You're going to continue fighting like this, aren't you?"

With a weary hum, he leaned over to rest against the banister. "I just need some more time to get my strength back. That's what you did, right? Just waited around until you were stronger than me."

For some reason, I wanted to tell him yes. I wanted to assure him that would be the case. But I would have been lying.

"If you keep on like this, you'll only get weaker," I said. "I gave you my power at times, but all I've really ever done is sapped energy from you to regain my strength. It's not a two-way street, Nero. You're draining yourself by trying to stay at the surface, just treading water, wearing yourself out." Reaching over, I rested my hand to the top of his head. He felt real. Alive. He didn't pull away.

When I had given him my power, I'd been left weak and drained. He must have felt that way all the time now. I was making him suffer again.

"In this state, all you can do is flit around in memories," I said. "You should… rest, Nero. Just let go. I won't harm anyone in your place, so please."

A smile wavered on his trembling lips. "So this is it then?" he said, closing his eyes just as tears fell from them. "This is all I get?" With a slow exhale, he relaxed under my touch. His voice fell to a fading whisper. "I'm so sick of the cold. God, I miss the sun."

As the shadows began to bleed out over the rest of the house, my heart began to race. In a surge of panic, I searched for something more to say to Nero, but the darkness burned everything away far too quickly, including him. He slipped from my grasp into the abyss.

I jolted awake to my skull throbbing. Dante rubbed at the side of his head, his nose scrunched against his own pain. "Must have been one hell of a bad dream," he grumbled.

I blinked, looking down at my hand. I could no longer recall how Nero felt under my touch. Perhaps I'd imagined it.

"It's nothing," I said. "We should get back to that Hell Gate so we can destroy it before more demons spawn."

While Dante complained about wanting breakfast, against all better judgment, I reached out again to relinquish control of my left eye.

But no presence was there to take it from me. No soft voice taunted me. Nero must have finally found sleep. That had been what I'd wanted from the beginning, yet the realization left me sickeningly alone.

I looked up, realizing Dante had gone silent, to find him staring at me. I couldn't read his troubled expression. I used to be able to read him so well. "What are you thinking about right now?" I asked him.

Again, he put on that fake smile I hated. "I'm just thinking about how I can't do anything right."

I understood. Neither could I.

"If nothing else, we can go destroy that gate," I said.

Dante's smile eased into something more genuine. "Yeah, I think we can do that."

* * *

 **Next chapter should be the last one.**


	13. Nightfall

**The site finally decided to start working for me again. Oh boy**.

* * *

We'd given the demons time to rest too. The area surrounding the gate had turned into a fraction of the jungle that had taken over before. Vines swarmed the place and writhed like snakes through the trees.

"Nice of them to prep the place for us," I said as I spun Cerberus in my hand, listening to the chains rattle. The dog, or dogs maybe, growled under my fingertips. I could feel him tugging at the chains like a leash. He hadn't gotten out in a while.

At my side, Vergil stood in moody silence again and eyed the edge of the infected forest.

"Do you have some big plan I should know about before I go in there and just wreck the place?" I asked.

He shrugged. "No, just 'wrecking the place' is fine as long as you don't get yourself captured again."

"You got caught too, you know."

I expected him to snap at me, the usual routine we'd fallen into, but calm eyes turned my way. "What happens after this, Dante? You know we can't keep acting like all of this is fine."

He asked too many damn questions. He should have been the one asking me to drop the subject. Heaving a sigh, I dug the heel of my hand into my eye to keep from having to look at him. I'd settled into thinking of him as Vergil so easily, but that was Nero's face, the face of the kid I'd failed.

"I don't know. I guess I'll figure it out when we get to that point. For now, let's just… hang on a little longer." Even if only for a few more minutes, I wanted to keep pretending.

"If that's what you wish." He gestured forward with a lazy wave of his hand. "You first, then."

"Aw, you're going to watch my back?"

He breathed a small huff through his nose. That sounded like a yes to me.

The moment I reached the tree line, the vines awoke into a frantic, viscous mass, unwinding into spiked nooses and whips. "You're going to need some different tricks," I said, my breath leaving me in a fine mist as Cerberus added to the chill in the air. Spikes of ice cracked up from the ground and gouged the trees in half. The vines recoiled from the cold like it could have been fire.

"Don't get too full of yourself," Vergil snarled as a rain of Summoned Swords fell around us, pinning vines that had tried to sprout from the ground around the ice.

"Me? Full of myself?" I placed a hand to my chest with a gasp. "I would never!"

"Yes, yes, you're hilarious."

"I'm glad you've finally noticed. I've been working very hard, but you're a tough audience."

Despite his dead-eyed stare, Vergil cracked a smirk for an instant before shouldering past me to walk around the small icebergs that blocked our path. "Make them less in the way next time," he said.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be in front! You have to watch my back remember?" I chased after the flowing white tail of his coat, one of the few parts of his coat not stained with mud or blood.

The demon or demons or whatever it was didn't change tactics much - stab, strangle, or tear to pieces. "Not very exciting," I admitted, twirling Cerberus after another round of turning the vines into broken chunks of ice.

"If they're part of a single host, they'll be more difficult once we get close again," Vergil said. "Don't let your guard down."

"But isn't that what I have you here for? You keep saving my ass. Admit it, Verge, you do care."

The silence of the forest felt far too heavy when he didn't answer. His eyes flicked to their corners, and my practiced smile faltered. "It would be troublesome if you died here," he said far too late.

Life was somehow simpler when he was trying to kill me. As he stepped past me this time, I struggled to find the strength to move after him. The only thought that restarted my legs was that I needed to watch his back for when the demons attacked again.

The trees and vines became so dense as we neared the gate that the canopy shadowed the ground like nightfall. Vergil broke the silence with a hum. "It seems we've set it off," he said.

Following his gaze, I noticed the rocks starting to tremble as the earth shook. The vibrations spread up to my knees and numbed my feet. "Should we move?" I asked.

"Most certainly."

As the ground tried to rattle my feet out from under me, I leaped back, Vergil teleporting off in the other direction. I lost sight of him as the earth shattered open and a snake-like creature shot out from beneath it. The thorned vines covered it, or maybe it was made out of them. Two burning red eyes appeared from under the shadow of the writhing vines, borning into me just before it turned and dove my way.

"Nice to finally meet face-to-face," I called, tossing up a wall of ice that it smashed through like it was cardboard. "Well, shit."

The thing was taller and rounder than any of the trees and packed one hell of a punch as its snout slammed into my chest. As I hit the ground under its weight, my hands became dark and clawed, the air crackling around me. I shoved against whatever I could grab of its face to keep it from snapping me in half. The vines coiled around my arms and bit down deep, but my arms healed much faster than my spine, so it wasn't a concern.

As the demon thrashed against my grip, its tail crashed through the trees and sent them toppling over. The sky opened up overhead, gray winter sunlight refracting through the Summoned Swords that twirled in and lanced through the bastard. Its scream was like metal tearing as it rolled away from me. "Oh, come on," I growled as the vines around my arms remained, trying to drag me along with it.

A sudden chill sent me shivering. Ice spread out along the ground, frost latching onto my coat and the vines pulling at me. Vergil's boot came down in front of my face and crushed the frozen vines into shards. He held Cerberus in a light, lazy grip before letting the weapon fall back down in front of me. "You dropped this," he said. "Idiot."

"I was a little distracted. Thanks for saving my ass again, not that I couldn't have worked things out myself."

He gave an unimpressed "hmph" as I scooped up Cerberus and hopped to my feet. The snake had its attention on us again. I couldn't tell whether it was hissing or if all the vines moving across its skin were making the sound. Either way, it seemed pissed.

"You know, I fought a snake-type thing around here before," I said just before we both jumped away from the thing barreling toward us. I sent another dozen ice shards toward it as Vergil darted in close to drag Yamato down its side.

"Really?" he said, narrowly avoiding the tail smacking him halfway through the forest. He didn't avoid the vines that shot toward him and tore deep gashes along his right side. Whether from annoyance or pain, he spoke through gritted teeth. "How did you defeat that one?"

Yamato made quick work of the vines in front of him, and I rushed to his back to stop the snake that was turning on him. "Just stabbed it a bunch," I said as I whipped up a blizzard for the snake.

"Of course you did." It must have been the icy winds, but I could have sworn I'd heard him laugh.

The snake's movements became stiff and disjointed as the cold settled in. Cerberus must have wanted to show off because snow swirled down around us. Stepping up to my side, Vergil leveled Yamato toward the demon. "Let's finish it before it starts to freeze solid."

"Or before I freeze solid," I said as I pulled Rebellion from my back.

We both shot toward it without another word. Vergil took the left side. I took the right, slicing the demon in half from its snout until it stopped moving. As we pulled our swords free, its body shriveled to gray stone that crackled into ash under my boot. Above us, the vines laced through the trees followed suit. The ash and snow looked almost identical as they fell.

"Let's hope there was only one of these bastards," I said.

"There won't be if we don't destroy that gate." After examining the wounds healing along his right side, Vergil's eyes flicked over my arms. "We didn't get as much of the poison this time, so I don't believe it will be an issue."

I broke into a grin. "I'm fine if that's what you're asking."

"I didn't ask anything."

"Sure you didn't." Dropping my hand to the top of his head, I ruffled his hair until I realized what I was doing and froze. My smile faltered. I'd done the same thing to Nero a few days ago. Vergil didn't seem to notice, too busy ducking away and grumbling.

"Let's go," he insisted, and I followed because I didn't know what else to do.

The gate fell to pieces with ease under Vergil's barrage of slashes. "Didn't even get a new Devil's Arm out of this deal," I muttered as bits of rock dropped around me. "Well, at least it should hopefully stay destroyed this time."

"We have no proof of that," Vergil said even as he sighed in resignation. "This island will always be trouble. But, yes, hopefully this is the end of the gate."

"We always did make a pretty good team." I wanted to smile, wanted it to be another joke, but I couldn't manage it. Vergil smiled in my place.

"We did, but we made even better enemies, I suppose."

This must have been my last chance, my last chance to do something. He would run or he would fight me, and that would be the end of it. Even then, though, I still didn't know what to do.

As my eyes flicked back and forth in search of a solution, Vergil kept smiling his odd, tired smile. "If you could only have one of us," he said, "who would you pick?"

I didn't know.

I couldn't decide.

My heart beat with such a fury that it felt like it might wrench in two. My eyes burned with tears that I refused to let fall. Not long ago, I would have said Nero without hesitation, but now… He couldn't ask something like that.

"It's obvious who your conscience would pick," Vergil said. His eyes never left me, even though I struggled to hold his gaze. "I'm the villain here. You know it's true. I don't belong. I'm supposed to be dead, and I've done nothing but hurt the boy. Besides, you did promise him… and you care about him."

Vergil wasn't supposed to admit any of that, even if it were true. Vergil was Vergil - haughty, full of himself, and never honest. My brother had always thought of himself in the right, even when he knew better.

"I care about you too, you know," I said. My shoulders had dropped. I felt far too heavy, far too weak.

"It's nice to hear that. But I've kept all my promises now, Dante, and you should keep yours."

Then that was it. We were going to fight again. I was so tired of fighting Vergil, and the worst part was knowing, for once, that I could win with absolute certainty. I was stronger than I used to be. He was weaker, but Nero's body would still take a great deal of damage before it fell. I would have to feel every strike down into my hands. I would have to tear the poor kid apart.

Saving the kid by killing him, what a sick joke.

Emptiness took hold of me as I reached for my sword again. "Alright. If we have to."

Vergil's eyes took on an odd shine. "Wait a moment. He's fallen farther than I thought. I suppose I'll have to-" His voice cut off, and his eyelids fluttered; then he just dropped.

My shock kept my feet planted until he hit the ground, at which point I started spitting curses and rushed to his side. I dropped to my knees, my hands hovering over him in case this was some sort of weird trick he was using to stab me. Vergil was way too proud to pull something like that, though. Maybe the poison had gotten to him somehow.

"Vergil," I called, feeling awkward as I smacked his cheek. "What happened? Did you die?"

No, his pulse beat firm under my fingers. The wounds he'd gotten from the vines were a soft red but had sealed completely.

"Okay," I huffed. "Great."

With no other ideas, I decided to just follow what I'd done the last time and dragged the limp mess of limbs onto my back to carry. Tying Yamato to one hip and Rebellion to the other was awkward, but everything about the situation was. I didn't have anywhere to go but the city. Trish, Lady, and Kyrie were bound to be a problem, and Vergil would gut me as soon as he woke up to find himself back in town, but I couldn't just leave him there with all the demon stragglers hanging around.

And I was damn hungry.

"I guess if you were going to pick a time to weirdly pass out, that was a good choice," I rambled to myself as I trudged back through the snow and leaves, Vergil's head resting on my shoulder. I could hear his soft breathing, so I knew he wasn't dead yet. "If you'd conked out while we were fighting the snake, that would have been a real problem, and this way, I get to avoid thinking about how utterly hopeless I am for a few more minutes. I appreciate it. I don't know what I'll do if I have to kill you and the kid. I guess I'd get Yamato, which really sucks. I don't want it. It's going to bitch at me all the time. Honestly, it might be better to just let you kill me instead, but a coup de grace really isn't my style. It's not my style to hand one out either, so really, this is unfair on all sides-"

"By the Savior's grace, would you shut up?"

My steps halted as Vergil raised his head with a tired groan. He glanced around, eyes thin with annoyance and his lips drawn to a pout I couldn't imagine Vergil wearing since we were kids.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "It was weird of you to just go down like that. Freaked me out a little."

He blinked as though trying to readjust his sight. "Still pretty cold," he grumbled. "But at least the sun's out."

"It's because I'm here," I said, a smile flashing onto my face.

He positively seethed, his expression thinned with rage. "I hate you so much. Why am I being carried again? Put me down!"

That didn't sound like Vergil. Well, hating me sounded like Vergil, but he would have said something like, "I hope you die slowly" or "Dante, oxygen is wasted on you." The tone of voice was off too. Vergil's voice was thin and crisp, but this voice rasped and rolled.

It sounded like Nero.

He struggled to free himself from my grip until I let him go, spinning so that I could look at him. I had to grab his shoulders to stop him from falling back. "Kid?" Shock and hope made my eyes wide as I searched him.

"Yeah, it's me," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Good to see you again."

He wheezed as I crushed him with a hug, my arms trembling. The thrill of joy clashed with fear rolling in my gut until I felt sick. I had Nero back, but now Vergil was gone again. I couldn't stop myself from wondering what had happened to him and if he was alright.

I wanted for him to be alright.

Nero patted my back harder than necessary. "Take it easy or you'll snap my spine. Come on, I need to go see Kyrie."

"Right." I pulled back, forcing a smile that made him furrow his brow. "And we can get some food too because I am starved."

As soon as Nero tried to take a step, his legs almost fell out from under him. I hooked my arm with his to keep him upright as he found his feet again, testing one step, then another. "How are you feeling, kid?" I asked.

"Uh, a bit out of practice, I guess. I'll figure it out. Give me a second."

He leaned on me at first, his steps slow until he remembered how to walk. "Don't tell anyone about this," he grumbled once he managed to let go of me.

"Your secret's safe with me."

He took Yamato back before we arrived in town, absorbing it into his arm again while muttering about how he was going to get Red Queen and Blue Rose back. I waited for him to tell me if he was really alright or to ask what had happened, but he must have been waiting for the same from me. In the end, neither of us said much of anything.

When we walked through the front door of his house, I found three guns trained on us. "Hello to you too," I said, my hands raised. Nero didn't bother with the same caution, and Lady and Trish eyed him with distrust. Kyrie sat on the couch between them, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. She must have done a lot of crying.

"Could you not point guns in my house?" Nero said.

Kyrie's whole form shifted in an instant as though she'd been zapped with energy. "Nero! It's you!" She surged forward before the other women could react and fell into Nero's grasp. He held her in one arm, the Bringer remaining at his side.

"Hey, don't cry," he said with a laugh. "You're supposed to be happy to see me."

"I'm happy, but I'm so mad! I was so worried about you!" she sobbed into his shoulder. "Is he going to come back, or is it just you now?"

"It's me right now. Don't worry, Kyrie."

I shook off the urge to cry.

As he reassured her, Lady stalked up to me and caught me by my ear, dragging me away from the kids. "What happened?" she hissed. Trish leaned in with an equal glare.

My mouth hung open as I searched for an answer. "I… don't know," I admitted at length. "Vergil was there one moment, and then he was just gone. It was like he just gave up."

"Vergil doesn't just give up," Lady said, one brow raised.

That wasn't exactly true. He would never admit defeat, but I had seen him give up before. I'd watched him fall.

"I don't know," I murmured. "I just don't know. But the kid is back. That's good."

My expression didn't match my words. I could feel the unease in my features, and Trish and Lady saw it too. They exchanged a glance around me that must have conveyed something along the lines of "Dante has lost it."

That was what I felt like anyway.

At least Kyrie sounded happy enough that I couldn't help but smile when she spoke to me. "Dante, Nero says you're hungry, which probably means he's also hungry and just doesn't want to admit it."

"Hey!" Nero barked.

"We should all go out and get dinner. Nero needs to eat something, and we haven't bought groceries in a while. Besides, Nero should buy you all dinner." Her smile was blinding.

"Why am I buying?" Nero sighed. "I need that money for clothes. Speaking of, can I change first so I don't have to go in this? I look disgusting."

I looked just as bad, but I didn't care enough to change until Nero threw some stiff-looking button-down shirt at me. The women laughed until I started changing in front of them, at which point I found everyone yelling at me instead, except Kyrie who hid behind her hands. She was as red as my coat.

Luckily for the kid's wallet, we all went back to the diner. The food there was cheap, and I was able to get another pizza. As far as I was concerned, everyone was a winner.

"This is the best meal I've ever eaten in my life," Nero said in the rare instance that he paused between bites. It was the exact same thing Vergil had ordered for breakfast the day before. "I missed food so much."

"We should order you another serving then," Kyrie offered with another starry-eyed smile.

"Please don't. I would die."

Lady and Trish both started out eating at a sluggish pace, distracted by watching the kid with ongoing suspicion, but as the meal wore on, they both relaxed. "Should we leave things like this?" Lady asked as the kids bickered over whether Nero could stomach another plate.

Trish hummed and clicked her nails along the counter. "Hard to say. Dante, do you think Vergil is just doing this to get us out of the way?"

"No." If I tried to explain, I knew they would argue. They'd never believe me. But I knew my brother. He'd been genuine when he said he didn't want to hurt Nero, even if his meaning was twisted. He wouldn't have let the kid have control again like this just to take it back. He'd given up instead of fighting me, instead of letting them both die. I couldn't say I understood it, but I knew it to be the truth.

"It's over," I said. "Best for us to let the kids be now."

The girls had another one of their secret psychic meetings, glancing at each other with concern or confusion in their eyes. I was going to get one hell of a lecture when we got back.

As we stepped out of the diner, it seemed I was going to get my lecture early, Trish and Lady both pulling me aside. I braced for a scolding that never came.

"Are you alright?" Trish asked.

No, not really.

"I guess I'm more confused than anything," I said. They could tell that I was lying. I could see it in the way their eyes narrowed. "But I'll survive. I always have before."

Crossing her arms, Trish huffed. "Always so difficult."

"Just don't do anything stupid until you get home," Lady said.

"You know everything I do is stupid."

Despite my amusement, her tone was flat. "I know."

"Hey," Nero called over to us. He and Kyrie stood a few paces away, polite but probably listening. "The ferries are done running today. You'll have to leave tomorrow. Dante, you can crash at our place again."

"You didn't offer to let Trish and Lady stay," Kyrie scolded.

"They have a hotel. Dante is broke."

"It's still polite!"

"We're fine, thank you," Trish said. "You kids be good and make sure Dante doesn't sleep through all of tomorrow's ferries."

"Yeah, and thanks for uh…" Nero's eyes rolled up under furrowed brows as his claws brushed his nose. "Thanks."

Lady snorted. "You're welcome. Thanks for dinner."

I didn't want to go back to the house with them. I just couldn't find an excuse not to. When we got back, Kyrie insisted that it was still too early to sleep. Nero sighed at the news, scrubbing his human hand across his face. "Well, what are we going to do then?" he asked.

Kyrie lit up once again. "We haven't had three people in a while, so you know what we should do?"

"Please don't say board ga-."

"Board games!"

As I assumed was standard in their house, Nero and I had no choice when Kyrie pulled out a stack of boxes and dropped them onto the dining room table, which still lacked a couple of chairs. Kyrie was surprisingly brutal at Chinese Checkers, but I was still the reigning champ at Clue. "Is it because you know a lot about murder?" Kyrie asked after I won, her expression so serious that I couldn't help but fall over the table laughing.

When it came to Sorry, I made a quick grab for the red pieces, Kyrie gathered up the yellows, and Nero's Bringer scooped up the blues. "Didn't we not talk to each other for two days last time we played this?" he asked, frowning down at the pieces as he put them in place.

Kyrie stared at them as well until she realized he'd spoken, blinking herself out of a daze. "That's because you cheated."

"You can't cheat at Sorry."

"Well, you did."

"I didn't even win!"

"I'm going to go first!" I decided. Despite some life-or-death poker games, that round of Sorry turned into the tensest game of drawing cards I'd ever had in my life, made worse every time I noticed Nero staring at me from the corners of his eyes.

When Kyrie won with Nero hot on her heels, she finally allowed us to go to bed after her celebratory piece of cake. "You could at least offer to share," Nero said.

"But I won," she countered. "Besides, you can't eat this." Plucking off the strawberry on top, she offered it to me with a fiendish grin. "You can have this, Dante."

"Thank you. Do you just get strawberry cake to keep Nero from having any?"

Kyrie nodded as she took another bite.

Nero looked me dead in the eye while tossing his demon hand up toward her in the universal gesture of "look at this bullshit." Shrugging, I took a bite of the strawberry. I had no problems with Kyrie. In fact, she was downright endearing. Some other time I would ask for some embarrassing childhood stories about Nero because I knew she would dish them out like hotcakes.

But right then, I was too damn tired. We all were. Kyrie offered me more dorky clothes to sleep in despite looking torn about it. "Good to put them to use," she mumbled before shrinking back to her room with a soft, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Nero answered as he rolled a crick out of his neck and started down the hall toward his own room.

At the sight of him walking away, a surge of desperation tore through me. Before I realized what I was doing, I'd locked the wrist of his Bringer in my grasp. Tired eyes turned back toward me, but none of the questions spinning through my head formed on my lips. I couldn't bring myself to make a sound. Nero breathed a sigh as I let go of him. "Goodnight, Dante," he said. "Get some rest."

I couldn't sleep at all.

* * *

Dante was lucky that I was already awake because he definitely would have woken me up with all his pacing on the floorboards and throwing his handful of belongings back together. He was also lucky that Kyrie could sleep through anything.

I let him get all the way to the front door before I spoke, just to watch him freeze like a kid caught misbehaving. "Morning, Dante."

He stared at his hand on the doorknob for several seconds before forcing himself to turn my way. "Morning, kid." He must have used up all his fake smiles over the past few days because the one he tried to put on was stretched thin. "Are you just eating sliced bread?"

"I was hungry, and I didn't want to make a lot of noise," I said, shoving my hand back in the bag for another slice. "Bread's good. Did you want some breakfast before you try to leave without saying goodbye?"

"I'm… alright."

He wasn't. He hadn't been alright since I'd come back and probably even before then. Under my gaze, he had to keep his eyes elsewhere and shifted his weight between his feet.

"That's unlike you to try and leave without a word. You always liked such flashy exits."

Dante's whole body went taut, his eyes wide with panic. So, he could tell now. He'd noticed the difference.

"You're going to get him all confused and freaked out," I said.

My tongue clicked against my teeth, my lip curling. "It's not my fault if he doesn't understand. You should have told him."

"Oh no, that was your job." I pointed to my ride side because I didn't have anywhere better to show blame. "This was your whole idea to begin with."

My Bringer rose and smacked my other hand down. "I wasn't going to tell him anything in the first place."

"Well, you're an asshole then."

Vergil huffed a laugh. "That's not exactly news, boy."

As I flipped off my right side, I felt his annoyance settle into my expression. Dante, meanwhile, was dead-eyed with confusion. He seemed to wade through a swamp with each step toward me. His hands shook as he reached up to take hold of mine. "You're both here?" he asked in a whisper.

Vergil swallowed before managing a flickering smile. "Yes, I'm afraid you're not quite rid of me."

"Hey, I'm the one who's stuck with you," I said. "But, yeah, I guess we can kind of split it… consciousness... everything. So, surprise, I guess?"

I hadn't expected Dante to cry, but I hadn't expected him to laugh either. Tears spilled from his eyes as soft laughter bubbled from him. "Oh, this is insane," he said, wiping the tears from his face. "I can't believe it."

"It's real," I said. "But it does feel surreal."

I'd woken up to Vergil's voice, quieter than it had ever been before, and his hand pulling on mine. It felt like a dream, and maybe it was, but I understood when I woke up that I wasn't the only one awake. The sight in my right eye would flicker in and out, and I'd lose control of my right arm or where my eyes turned. He never took anything for long except my right ear. He kept it just as he always had. I couldn't bring myself to care. Being without sound on that side was more comfortable anyway.

"I suppose I'm still just a bit too selfish," Vergil said as he watched Dante struggle to regain his usual facade. I felt like I should have been upset to see Dante lose his grip on his emotions, but Vergil just smiled. "I couldn't accept death again, but I couldn't accept Nero fading away either. I've found that I can balance power between us. It's a curious game and one I won't always be able to maintain, but I wouldn't wish to. This is not my body. I won't intrude at all times. Nero deserves his own life as well."

"We'll make it work somehow," I said. Dante's brows shot up in surprise at that. I guess I should have hated Vergil. Well, I kind of hated him. He was a total prick, but things were far too gray for me to truly hate him. The memories were too recent. The pain was too fresh.

And Dante looked so broken when he thought he'd lost his brother again.

"It's not your job to feel sympathy for us," Vergil said. Dante tilted his head like some confused puppy.

"More like empathy, asshole," I said. "And stop reading my thoughts."

"I'm reading your emotions, not your thoughts."

"Yeah, quit that. Anyway, I just think it wouldn't be so bad if you could catch a break for once in your life. Besides, we've already been stuck together for ages. This isn't that different."

Dante nodded. "The more I try to think about it, the weirder it gets. I think I could use a good drink, actually."

"Yes, stop thinking," Vergil said. "You'll hurt yourself."

Despite his confusion, Dante's lips quirked to a smile. "You're starting to sound like Nero."

"You take that back right now!" Yamato buzzed in my Bringer.

"Hey," I said. "No stabbing in the house."

As Vergil huffed and threw a small tantrum in the back of my mind, Dante's expression eased to the worry I'd grown used to seeing from him. "I guess this is good," he said, though it was almost a question. "If you're really both okay like this… then…"

Though our control was still separate, I found myself crossing my arm with Vergil's on instinct. "I suppose it's not that simple," Vergil said. "Maybe not 'good,' but it's something for now. Perhaps someday, we can find a better solution. For now, this is what we have. We'll simply have to make the most of it."

"You're both alive," Dante said. "I'll take that as some sort of victory."

I shrugged, though my right shoulder didn't mirror the action. "We're alive until I have to tell Kyrie, and then we're both dead. Like introducing a new roommate… but worse."

"Hey, I let you live," Vergil snapped. "Don't push it."

He wasn't going to have any luck threatening me anymore. Now that I'd realized he actually had a conscience made up entirely of guilt, I knew that he wasn't going to hurt me again, no matter what his growling thoughts might try to say. He was a softie in the weirdest, most dickish way possible.

"Stop thinking whatever you're thinking right now," he grumbled.

"So you're staying here then?" Dante asked before I could piss Vergil off more.

"Yes, this island needs constant babying," he said.

"But it might be nice to get away every now and then," I added. "Maybe we could visit sometime." I was going to regret it later, I knew, but at that moment, it was nice to see the way Dante's whole face lit up with a genuine smile. Besides, it would be entertaining to see Dante bicker with his sibling instead of him laughing while Kyrie and I argued.

"Don't you have some awful shop, though?" Vergil asked. "I'm not staying there."

"Oh, me neither." I didn't want anywhere near that explosive microwave.

"Hey, neither of you has even seen my shop! It's great! So… you two come visit sometime." He rubbed at the back of his neck, gaze drifting back toward the door. "I guess you have my phone number." Anxiety bled into his eyes. "I just feel like this is all some weird dream, and if I leave it'll all disappear. I'll wake up, and I'll lose someone again."

He must not have slept well, eyes heavy with exhaustion. His tired mind needed proof. Alright.

Vergil let me have the Bringer back after I flashed a request through my mind. Going to the kitchen, I took the pen from beside the shopping list and came back to grab Dante's hand. He blinked as I tugged off his glove to reveal the scar that I'd seen him get. He'd never let it heal. Vergil flinched at that.

"This is our house phone," I said as I jotted down the number across his palm. "We actually found your number in the Order's files, which was just weird. Don't ask because I don't know." After a dash, I signed my name. Vergil took the opportunity to control the Bringer once again and write his name under mine in flowing letters.

"I'll be here as well, of course," he said as the claws of the Bringer brushed along the scar. "Now don't lose your hand before you get home."

I couldn't read all the emotions flashing through Dante's eyes as he pulled the glove back on, but his smile was genuine. Vergil was sure of it. "No worries," Dante said. "I'll get home in one piece."

"Promise?" Vergil and I both had the thought to ask, so I couldn't tell which of us spoke. Maybe both.

"I promise."

* * *

 **Ah, what a weird fic this has been. Hopefully enjoyable regardless. Thank you for reading, and a huge thanks to anyone who commented. Apologies if I didn't reply, but I really appreciate the reviews.**


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